A Pirate's Life
by Archemios
Summary: Lincoln always dreamed of leaving Michigan to be a sailor, just like his hero Captain Savvy. He never expected to fulfill his dream aboard a pirate ship crewed by women. Loud House AU. Characters are unrelated and closer in age. Takes place roughly 1710. It's got pirates; what else do you want?
1. Chapter 1

**I like a lot of different things, but one of my top three would have to be nautical culture – pirates, particularly.**

 **This fic is for S &Gs, so expect infrequent updates (if any). For the purposes of shipping, the Loud children are all unrelated and approximately the same age – you'll notice a lack of last names. Anyway, here goes nothing. The year is about 1710. It's a little hard to write about early 18** **th** **century Michigan, so I'm trying to just gloss over that completely.**

The seas were truly something to behold. Lincoln was glad he had made the long journey to the coastline. His parents had wept at his leaving – his father was furious he would not carry on the family tradition as a Michigan priest, something very common in his home, French settlement. He had read about the seas and the naval tradition; it called to him.

For any who have never seen it, the sea is a truly enchanting beast. Rolling waves that spread into the horizon, water that changes color seamlessly, from blue to grey to green to white. Skies that blaze beautiful hues of orange, red, purple and blue. Flocks of gulls, schools of fish, and creatures so large they boggle the mind. If Lincoln was in love from his books, he was positively seduced by the real thing.

His head spun at the possibilities of this new life before him.

"I could be a ship captain, like Captain Savvy," he said to himself, dreaming to be like the swashbuckling hero of his children's stories, "but that's unlikely… It takes years to take command of a vessel – nobody's going to just hand over a ship to a boy."

The more he thought about it, with the risks of piracy and mutiny, being a sailor didn't sound too appealing. There were other jobs for men of the sea, though: working the docks, being a whaler or fisherman, building ships… The list went on, so the books told him.

"Just pick a job and stick with it," a voice muttered at him. With a start, he turned to face a youth about his age with brown hair kept back in a ponytail, smooth-faced with freckles.

"Excuse me?" Lincoln asked.

"You were talking to yourself," the youth shook their head, "bloody French."

Oh, great. An Englishman. Lincoln bit his tongue, though; the English were some of the best seamen in the world, and Captain Savvy had been an Englishman. Still, his pa had told him never to trust the British. Weird, considering his ma was English.

"Forgive me, sir." Lincoln said.

"Sir?!" the youth seemed offended, "I'm a bleeding girl, you git!"

Lincoln eyed the stranger up and down, unconvinced; she was awfully flat-chested for a girl…

"Fine, believe what you will," the stranger waved a hand, dismissively, "I've got a ship to catch."

"A ship?" Lincoln was excited, "What kind? A brig? A frigate? A schooner?"

"As if a landlubber like you knows the difference," the girl snorted, "you don't look the seaworthy type, kid."

"Well, the brig is a bit tricky since it can also be short for brigantine." Lincoln said, matter-of-factly, "A brig has two square-rigged masts, while a brigantine has-"

"Alright, you little bugger, shush." the girl groaned, "It's a frigate, far as I can tell."

"Amazing!" Lincoln was enchanted by the idea, "Wait. They let a girl onto a warship?" Come to think of it, weren't women a bad omen on _any_ ship?

"Er…" the girl averted her eyes, "It's not really a warship, anymore."

"Oh." Lincoln was a little disappointed, "What's it used for, then?"

"We mostly, uh… carry goods." the girl shrugged, "What's it to you, anyway?"

"I was wondering if I could, maybe… I don't know," Lincoln stammered, "come work for your ship?"

"Are you bleeding mad?!" the girl laughed, "You don't know the first thing about sailing! I'd bet you're from some landlocked backwoods. Go home, lad, before you get yourself killed."

"Please!" Lincoln fell to his knees; begging to a woman, how embarrassing! "I've abandoned _everything_ to sail the seas! I have nothing to go back to!"

A partial lie, at best.

"Ugh, fine!" the girl picked the boy up, "Just quit your groveling. I'll… put in a good word with our captain, but don't make me regret it. No promises, though; she doesn't like men serving onboard."

"Her?" Lincoln blinked, "Your captain's a woman?"

"Yeah, she is." the girl put her hands on her hips, "Got a problem with it?"

"No!" Lincoln held his arms up, defensively.

"Good. Name's Lynn, by the way." the girl held out her hand, "What's your fancy? First name only; ain't got a use for surnames."

"Lincoln." he took her hand and was embarrassed at how soft his was to hers.

"Blimey, not even a single callous," Lynn muttered under her breath, "the work'll eat you alive."

Lincoln gulped. The books always referred to the hardship endured by sailors, but they never went into the details of the work. Surely it couldn't be that bad? Lynn led him down several back alleys. For a moment, he thought he was being hustled and kept his eyes peeled for robbers; none appeared, but there was no shortage of shifty-looking figures. Finally, though, they came to a dock all but hidden by the closely-packed slums.

"There she is, lad," Lynn gestured, "we call her _Our Fair Lady_."

"Interesting name." Lincoln noted.

The ship left a lot to be desired. Barnacles crusted the waterline, though a young crewman was well at work chipping them off. As they got closer, Lincoln noticed the crewman was a young girl – no older than ten, by the looks of it. He blinked at the sight; women and girls working on a ship? His books on Captain Savvy had never said anything like that, and there were often tales of sea monsters and other oddities.

"Say, Lynn," he began, "is your whole crew made up of women?"

"Yeah, what of it?" she asked, "It's also a mixed crew, so get used to that, too."

"It's just odd." Lincoln confessed, "I've never heard of a woman serving onboard a ship, let alone a whole crew made up of women."

"We're an odd bunch, mate." Lynn snorted, "You'll get used to it."

She led him aboard. Everyone stopped what they were doing to eye the one man aboard. Truth be told, some of these girls were little older than him – most younger – and all hid their feminine physiques within dusty frocks and thick breeches, their hair bound beneath their tricorns and turbans. Lynn blushed, suddenly realizing how stupid she looked leading a man back to their ship.

"What the hell is _he_ doing here?" a voice asked, all cold iron. Everyone Lincoln could see went ramrod straight.

"Captain on the deck!" someone shouted.

"Really?" Lynn muttered sarcastically, then much louder, "Hey Cap!"

Approaching them in a turquoise frock and khaki breeches was an older woman, with short-cropped blonde hair underneath a tricorn adorned with wicks, of all things. Lincoln, though still young, knew she was beautiful. It was hard to take his eyes off her. Lynn nudged him painfully in the ribs to snap him out of his stupor.

"Permission to come aboard?" Lincoln performed his best salute.

"Permission denied!" the captain shouted in his face, "We don't take on menfolk. They only cause trouble. Now get off or I'll have the girls toss you overboard!"

"I won't cause any trouble!" Lincoln held his hands up defensively, "I've always wanted to be a sailor, you know. I know a lot about ships, knots, standing watch, and… uh…" he fell silent under the captain's withering gaze.

"Cut him some slack, Captain Lori." Lynn said, gulping as the stare fell on her, "I mean, he's not like other men out there."

"Really?" Lori snorted, turning back to Lincoln, "I suppose you're ready and willing to serve a _woman_ then?"

"Yes." Lincoln nodded, "It's a little weird, but my ma always did seem smarter than my pa. I never could figure why women had to obey men, not the other way around." He might have been sugarcoating it a little, but to be honest it had occurred to him that he'd rather serve under a woman, anyway – male captains (at least in the stories) were always harsh and abusive. How harsh could a woman be?

"Huh." Lori grunted, chewing her lip, "I suppose we could use a cabin boy."

"And someone to warm our beds at night, eh?" another girl spoke up. She was rewarded with catcalls and a blushing Lincoln.

"None of that, lasses." Lori snapped, looking Lincoln up and down, "He's a crewmate, now; not a whore."

That sobered up a good portion of the older crewwomen.

"S-so I have the job?" Lincoln couldn't believe his luck.

"Don't make me regret it." Lori muttered, "And as for you, Lynn… Bring another man aboard without permission and I'll have you before the mast."

"Aye aye, Cap'n." Lynn saluted, very unperturbed. Lori grumbled and returned to her cabin, slamming the door behind her.

"So what kind of goods do we ship?" Lincoln asked.

"What are you on about?" Lynn asked.

"You said you were shippers." Lincoln reminded her, "Though why you'd all use a frigate, I'm not sure… Surely there were better ships available for shipping."

"Right, right…" Lynn mumbled, "Uh, listen… Don't freak out, or nothing, but we're not _exactly_ shippers."

"O…kay?" the boy furrowed his brow. Why would she lie?

"I need your word you'll serve this crew to the end, got it?" Lynn said quietly, but forcefully, prodding a finger into Lincoln's chest, "We need loyal crewmates, not cowards. Which are you?"

"I'm no coward." Lincoln said with surprising strength.

"Good." Lynn grinned, "You swear loyalty to this ship, the captain and the crew? On your honor?"

Lincoln thought about it. He was raised in a culture that placed women as second-class citizens. To make things stranger, half the girls were younger than him or roughly his age. To be placed as a mere cabin boy… He was beneath all of them. The implications began to hit him, and he felt very emasculated. Still, there was a certain thrill to it – not just to the promise of sailing the sea, but an almost sexual thrill at serving under so many women; lovely women, at that. Even Lynn had some charm about her, hidden underneath the calloused hands and gutter language.

"I so swear." he said.

"Okay." Lynn nodded, "Now don't freak out or yell, but we're not shippers."

"I gathered that." Lincoln noted.

"We take what we want from enemy vessels," the girl clearly had trouble explaining the concept but Lincoln immediately picked up on the hidden context.

"You're pirates." the blood drained from his face.

"Aye." Lynn shrugged, "Privateers, or _corsairs_ if you prefer. Sometimes we're hired by the government."

"Which government?" Lincoln asked, still clearly stunned.

"Whichever pays the most," another voice giggled.

Lincoln turned, recognizing the voice as belonging to the one who suggested he warm all the girls' beds. She was older than Lynn and Lincoln, though not by much, with brown hair bound in a ponytail beneath a tricorn. Her teeth were crooked, but who was Lincoln to judge when his were too? Her shirt was a hideous yellow plaid twill, and her pants were a vibrant green. It hurt his eyes to look at her clothes for too long.

"Ah, Lincoln," Lynn said, "this here's Luan, our fool."

"You're too sweet." Luan bowed, "So your name's Lincoln, eh? Weird. You sound French."

"My pa married an Englishwoman." Lincoln said, "You sound… Dutch?"

"Guilty as charged." Luan laughed, "You know, we have a French girl aboard."

"I think he'd sooner dunk his head in the bilge than talk to her." Lynn rolled her eyes.

"Jealous?" Luan smirked.

"Luan," Lincoln preempted the argument, "what is your job, really?"

"I'm the boatswain." Luan said. Lincoln tried not to fret about that; the woman tasked with caring for the ship was a loon.

"Who else should I know about?" Lincoln asked, trying to distract himself from panic.

"Our navigator is Lisa – the second youngest crewmate, but a genius with maps and sextant." Lynn said, "Luna is the quartermaster – she loves leading us in shanties. Leni is the first mate of the ship, with Lori being the captain. I'm in charge of the cannoneers. Lola, Lana and Lily are all a little young for real work, but Lana loves cleaning off the barnacles; Lola enjoys working the crow's nest; and Lily's just a baby. I think that's about it."

"You forgot our French girl." Luan snickered.

"Right…" Lynn muttered, "Lucy oversees the watch. She likes to personally take the night watch, so you won't see much of her."

"All of your names start with L?" Lincoln asked.

"Coincidence, lad." Lynn said.

"What exactly will I be doing?" Lincoln asked, "I mean, as a cabin boy?"

"Swabbing, most likely." Lynn said, "Probably assisting our galley officer, Clyde."

"So there is another man on board." Lincoln said.

"Not in the eyes of many, sadly." Luan noted, bitterly.

"What's that mean?" the boy asked.

"You'll see." Lynn said.

"Cast off, mates!" Lori's voice shattered the calm, "Royal Marines have been spotted nearby!"

"Wonderful." Lynn grunted, "Just what we need."

"Marines?!" Lincoln gulped.

"You'll see a lot of them." Luan smirked, "Comes with the territory."

Lincoln stood stupidly, watching as the crew of women dressed as men climb riggings and weigh anchor. They were nearly a dozen yards from the dock by the time the marines showed up, shouting for the crew to halt and firing shots against the ship. Lincoln ducked, futilely it turned out, as most of the shots hit the water behind _Our Fair Lady_.

He'd been essentially shanghaied by pirates, tricked into a crew of almost entirely women, and shot at by Royal Marines within a few hours of reaching the port town. All he'd wanted was to sign up with a crew and enjoy some adventure; he was well on his way to fulfilling that wish, to be sure. Lord above, how his parents would fret and rage at his life choices today!

"It's been one heck of a first day." Lincoln muttered to himself.

"Just wait until we break port," Luan said, resting against the deck railing, "the open sea is filled with English and Spanish vessels, all wanting to sink this vessel."

"Say, do you always talk to yourself?" Lynn asked, nudging Lincoln, "It's a little weird."

"I… I have no idea what you're talking about." Lincoln avoided eye contact, then changed subject, "When do I start working?"

"Right now." Lori's voice broke the calm, as she neared, "I need you to run messages along the ship."

She stopped her approach, black boots clicking on the deck, smartly. She eyed Lincoln up and down, a wolfish grin tugging at her lips.

"You will be running." she assured him.

Lincoln gulped.

 **Threw in a Battlefield 1 reference at the end. Anyway, how's everyone liking it so far? Took a lot of creative liberties with this, probably enough to disgust half the fandom.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Electric Boogaloo**

Lincoln had never had to do so much running in his life. He had to run Captain Lori's orders to every other officer while she reclined to scotch and books. Change of direction? Run to the helm and tell Quartermaster Luna to change direction. Strange ships spotted at sea? Run back to Captain Lori's cabin and tell her. How much powder and munitions? Run _back_ to the quartermaster. She doesn't know? Go below deck and take stock – then run back to Captain Lori again!

To think it had only been half a week.

"What did Lola say, exactly?" the captain asked, eyeing her glass, skeptically.

"She said 'two brigs, heavily damaged, off the port bow', I think." Lincoln repeated.

"Most likely they just limped out of a fight." Lori grinned, "What colors were they flying?"

"Spanish, Captain." The cabin boy felt his stomach tighten. Were they really about to attack two damaged vessels?

"Tell Luna to turn this vessel to port," Lori ordered, grabbing her frock, sword and tricorn, "then tell Lynn to ready the cannons."

Lincoln stood there, gaping.

"Didn't you hear me, boy?" Lori demanded, buckling her sword belt, "I gave you an order."

"We're not really going to kill those men, are we?" he asked.

"Don't tell me you were born without a spine, lad." Lori sneered, "We're pirates! We kill and pillage! Don't think we're soft because we're women."

"Killing them is wrong." Lincoln asserted, "So is theft!"

Lori looked stunned, then smiled – disturbingly motherly.

"Lincoln," she said softly, "the English and Spanish have done nothing but kill and steal since they've come to the New World. What we do, we do because we must – to survive."

"I don't feel right doing this…" the cabin boy confessed.

"Then don't fight," Lori snapped, "but you _will_ run my orders, or I'll throw you overboard myself. Got it?"

"Aye aye, Captain." Lincoln saluted.

"Good." Lori nodded, "Now, run the orders!"

Lincoln ran out of the cabin and towards the helm where Luna was belting lyrics:

"Now we are ready to sail for the Horn, way hey, roll and go! Our boots and our clothes, girls, are all in the pawn, to be rollicking, randy dandy o!" she sang, British accent fading as their crewmates took up the chorus. She stopped singing as Lincoln approached in a huff.

"Let me guess," Luna grinned, "the Captain wants to pursue those brigs?"

"How'd you guess?" Lincoln panted.

"After serving with her for three years, it's hard not to predict her orders." Luna explained.

Lincoln stayed silent while Luna adjusted course. Finally, he asked the question burning in his mind.

"What's it like?" he asked, "Being in battle, I mean."

Luna looked at Lincoln, smile fading.

"It's hell," she said, simply, "exciting, like being alive, but scary, too."

"Being alive?" the cabin boy asked.

"Yeah, you know…" Luna shrugged, "Like… you feel a rush. Shouldn't you be getting below deck?"

"Right, Lynn." Lincoln said.

He was off, hurrying from one Brit to another. He ran below deck, nearly running into every girl along the way. Finally, he reached Lynn, who quirked an eyebrow at his approach.

"You look like the Cap's been running you ragged." she said.

"Captain Lori says to prepare for battle." Lincoln huffed, slightly exhausted, "Two wounded brigs, off our port bow."

"Excellent!" Lynn grinned, a predatory glint in her eye, "She'll probably want to use the shot, then."

"Grapeshot?" Lincoln asked – how often he'd read about the horrific injuries such a weapon caused.

"Clears the gundecks and shreds the sails without hurting the cargo." Lynn explained, "What flag are they flying?"

"Spanish." Lincoln felt a little sick.

"Ah, so they're probably hauling sugar." Lynn nodded to herself, "Fetches a good price, that."

"How can you be so excited?" Lincoln asked quietly, "We're about to kill people."

"They know the risks." Lynn snapped, but the glint in her eye faltered, "You should get back to Captain Lori."

"Aye aye." the cabin boy muttered, running back to the Captain's cabin.

Lori was already on deck, beside the helm. Her voice could be heard belting orders to the women on the sails. Lola could be heard shouting down at them about the brigs turning to flee. Lincoln found himself hoping they would make their escape.

"Cabin boy!" Lori snapped, "Tell Lynn to load shot – starboard side!"

Lincoln only saluted, all but out of breath, and ran back below deck. Lynn already had her gunners unloading crates of silverware and chains – seemingly random bits of scrap metal that Lincoln was only too aware would be turned into lethal shrapnel.

"Captain says load the shot into the starboard cannons."

"She's not very surprising." Lynn laughed, mirthlessly, "You heard her, girls! Load to starboard!"

"I'm a guy." Lincoln pointed out.

"Sorry." Lynn said, sheepishly, "Last cabin boy was a cabin girl."

"Wait, the _last_ cabin boy?" Lincoln asked, "What happened to them?"

"You really should get back to Captain Lori," Lynn ignored the question, "before she rips you a new one."

Lincoln suppressed a growl of frustration as he booked it back up the ladder-well and onto the decking. The brigs were close enough now that Lincoln could make out little people moving frantically aboard their decks. He knew from his books that the effective firing range of shot would bring them close enough for him to see the fear on his enemies' faces. Close enough to see blood spilt.

"Cabin boy, stay near the ladder-well." Lori ordered, "I need you to relay the order to fire on my command."

"Y-yes Captain." Lincoln stammered.

"Be at ease, lad." Lori's face softened, briefly, "The first fight's always the worst."

Lincoln nodded, hoping she was right. Per his crewmates, and his experience in the last half a week, she was seldom wrong. He prayed the fight would be brief. Maybe the Spanish would just surrender? They were already turning to face them. It wasn't impossible… Just extremely unlikely.

"Get ready, girls!" Lori shouted, "Steady!"

The brigs _were_ close enough that Lincoln could see the looks of panic on their faces. They were almost entirely Hispanic, except for the officer on the deck who appeared as a blonde Spaniard. Cannons were already firing at them from both brigs, but the shots were hurried and few; most of the brigs' guns were likely overboard or unmanned. Lincoln ducked as a lucky cannonball shattered part of the railing a few feet away from him.

"Aim for their gundecks!" Lori shouted at Lincoln, who only stared at her, dumbfounded, "Relay my order, fool!"

"Aim for their gundecks!" Lincoln shouted down the ladder-well, voice breaking.

"I knew it!" he heard Lynn laugh.

They closed the distance even more. Lincoln saw the crews of the Spanish brigs reloading their cannons, almost ready to fire. For the first time since the chase had begun, he feared for his life, and the lives of his crew. They really could die.

Then he felt it. Just as Luna had described, he felt a rush. It wasn't pleasure, nor panic, but something between the two feelings. He felt time slow down, his sense open. He could make out the whites of the Spanish crew's eyes. They were so close now. He almost missed Lori's command, but repeated it all the same.

"Fire!" he bellowed down toward Lynn.

The cannons erupted sequentially, first one then the next, and onward until they had all unleashed their shot. Lincoln watched in grim fascination as the gundecks of the first brig filled with smoke and shrapnel. He could hear the screams of the enemy crew, even from that distance. Already, girls in men's clothing were throwing grappling hooks on ropes at the wounded brig, drawing it closer.

"Order Lynn to load the port cannons with shot!" Lori shouted, unsheathing her cutlass, "She's to keep the other brig occupied if they decide to be brave."

Lincoln repeated the order and Lynn complied.

"Stay here, cabin boy." Lori ordered, "Last thing we need is another dead kid."

Lincoln watched, amazed, as Lori led the charge of women and girls across planks and swinging from the riggings. It was just like Captain Savvy's exploits, but with females. The other brig did not fire on the entwined ships, not wanting to risk hitting their allies. They swung around, to try and get a broadside from their portside, only to have their gundecks cleared as they approached. Lincoln returned his gaze to the other brig, watching as Lori dueled with the Spanish officer. It was a thick melee on the deck, and very often Lori and her Spanish double were lost in the thick of the crowd.

Finally, though, it was clear the women were emerging victorious. The Spaniards began to surrender. The other brig was already throwing its arms overboard as a second broadside of shot shredded their sails and sharpshooters picked off crewmen. The Spanish officer was dead; Lincoln had missed Lori's _coup de gr_ _â_ _ce_. The fighting was over.

Lori's crew brought over the enemy sailors and marines, all unarmed and hands bound. Among them, only one officer had survived, a Hispanic ensign with a nasty gash across his brow from the brawl.

"What's your name?" Lori asked him, holding his chin firmly while she looked at the gash. Already the crews were bringing over captured sugar and munitions.

" _Me llamo_ Roberto Alejandro Martinez-Millan Luis Santiago II." the ensign muttered, too defeated to put up much of a contest.

"Christ above, the Spanish and their bloody names." Lori shook her head, "Well, _Se_ _ñ_ _or_ Santiago, how does it feel being bested by a woman?"

The captive blinked and for a moment Lincoln wondered if he even spoke English. Then he burst out laughing.

"Oh, thank goodness!" he said in fluent English, "I was wondering why I found you so enchanting."

Lori did something Lincoln thought she was incapable of: she blushed.

"Don't flirt with me, dog!" Lori barked, holding her cutlass close to the man's neck, "I could kill you – and all your men, too."

"I figured you would, regardless." Roberto shrugged, "That is what you pirates do, isn't it? Steal and murder?"

"For your information, _Bobby_ , _we_ usually put the crews back on their ruddy ships after we've taken what we like."

"Don't call me Bobby." Roberto said, "I'm not a Brit."

"I think it makes you a little… cuter." Lori smirked. It was the Spaniard's time to blush.

"Uh, Captain?" Luna's voice broke the discussion, "We're almost finished loading the goods."

"What?" Lori tore her gaze away from the captive officer, "Oh! Right. Well, Bobby, it looks as if it's time to let you and your crews go. If you ever get sick serving the Empire, I think you'd make a fine privateer."

"Ah, but _mi familia_ would disown me." Bobby chuckled, "In the Spanish world, _familia_ is everything."

Lori looked a little crestfallen, but immediately rebounded.

"To a true man of the sea, though, his crew _is_ his family." she said.

"Wise words, for such a young flower." Bobby nodded, "I hope, one day, to meet again. On better terms, of course."

"Likewise." Lori said, "Fair winds and following seas."

" _Igualmente_."

Within the hour, the ship's stores were full of goods and munitions and the captured crews were returned to their brigs. They let loose the sail and cast off for the nearest refuge. The brigs were left far behind them. Lincoln returned to his duties of running around the ship at Lori's orders, but as the sailing became smoother, he found himself with much desired free time.

"I see you're not dead yet." Luan grinned as she looked up from her work repairing the broken handrail, "Good for you."

"Yeah, thought I might actually die there, for a minute." Lincoln said, "How, uh, how do you stay so chipper?"

Luan looked at him, the somber glint in her eyes at odds with her cheery grin.

"In this line of work, Linc, you either laugh your pain away, or you drink it away." she explained, "Or both."

"But there are bright moments, yes?" Lincoln asked, almost desperate. Luan stayed surprisingly silent.

"Where is the little bugger?" Lynn's voice broke the mood, "Survived your first battle, did you? That deserves a celebratory bottle of rum!"

"I can't drink!" Lincoln was aghast, "I'm on duty!"

Immediately both girls burst into fits of laughter, holding their sides.

"And I thought I was the funny one!" Luan wiped a tear from her eye, "Thanks Linc, I needed that."

"Now come on," Lynn said, "before I drag you there myself."

"Where's 'there'?" Lincoln asked.

"To the galley." Lynn said, "It's time you meet Clyde."


	3. Chapter 3

**Please remember it's the 1700's, so Lincoln's views are a little… dated.**

"You're a negro." Lincoln pointed out. Lynn facepalmed, muttering a curse.

"And you're very observant." Clyde smirked, fixing his spectacles, "You're the new kid, right? Lincoln?" Kid? Clyde was even _younger_!

"Um. Yeah." Lincoln said, leaning towards Lynn, "Is… is he a slave?"

"Holy hell, no!" Lynn snapped, "Sorry Clyde. He's French."

"It's fine." Clyde didn't seem offended, "You're not the first white to accuse me of it. Truth be told, I was a slave until our beautiful Captain freed me."

"To her lasting regret." Lynn snorted, "He tries to woo her every chance he gets."

"And one day, her heart will be mine." Clyde sighed, absolutely smitten, "In the meantime, though, I'm content to cook for her crew."

"Still, I'm sorry that I just assumed…" Lincoln's face was flushed in shame, "My ma would tan my hide."

"She an abolitionist, I take it?" Clyde asked, surprised.

"Both my parents were." Lincoln admitted.

"They sound like swell folks, already." Clyde grinned, "So what did y'all come down for. No, don't tell me; celebratory rum?"

"He's good." Lincoln noted.

"Only because Lynn always comes here to celebrate after a battle," Clyde laughed, "when Lori isn't making her do her job."

"Bah, do you got the rum or not?" Lynn demanded, putting her arm around Lincoln, "My friend here just survived his first battle, man, so break out the good stuff."

"Alright, alright." Clyde fetched a bottle, "Anybody ever tell you, you look cute together?"

"Not funny, Clyde." Lynn said, removing her arm and taking the bottle from the galley officer's grip.

"Just pointing out the obvious." Clyde shrugged, "It's a ship full of women, Lynn. Sooner or later, one of you is going to snag him."

"Pshaw." Lynn rolled her eyes, "In his dreams."

Clyde only shook his head as he got glasses out. Lynn poured them each a drink, though hers was significantly fuller. Lincoln downed the liquid in haste, regretting it. It was nothing like wine, as he had been expecting. After his third drink, he started to loosen up and talk more openly.

"How'd she die?" he asked.

"Who?" Lynn asked, not the least bit tipsy.

"The last cabin boy – er, girl." Lincoln corrected.

"Ah." Lynn scratched her nose, "Figured that bit out, huh?"

"How?" Lincoln repeated. Lynn sighed.

"She was actually about your age when she joined," she explained, "she replaced me as the cabin girl. Like all of us, she started off all bright-eyed and hopeful. She was a lot like you, truth be told. In time, though, she grew grim and dark-minded. This work's not exactly pleasant."

"How did she cope?" Lincoln asked, worried he might follow this girl's path.

Lynn was silent for a moment as Clyde hastily downed his drink.

"She didn't." was all Lynn said, "Anyway, we've made due without a cabin girl since. The Captain's never really gotten over the loss."

"She..?" Lincoln couldn't finish the question, though he knew the answer. It was too terrible to say aloud, so he just crossed himself and muttered a prayer for the poor girl.

"What are you doing, looking so mopey?" Lynn demanded, "We're supposed to be celebrating. Try a happier topic, please."

"How long have you been serving?" Lincoln asked, "I mean, you were the cabin girl before the last, but you're not much older than me."

"I've been with the Cap since the beginning, lad." Lynn grinned, "Luna, Lori and I have been serving side-by-side for three years."

"Three years is a short time to command a frigate." Lincoln's eyes widened, "With how well she commands, I figured she'd have been in charge for… I don't know, ten years at least!"

"Pirates tend to skip the bureaucracy." Clyde chuckled.

"The Cap ain't even out of her twenties." Lynn chuckled, too.

"How'd she come to command this frigate?" he asked, "I never heard of women being given captaincy before."

"That's a bit of a story." Lynn sobered up, "To sum it up, she took it from a dead man."

"I'd like to hear it." Lincoln smiled, disarmingly, "I want to learn more about my captain; she's quite amazing."

"That she is." Clyde agreed, "Come on Lynn, tell him the story. Everyone else aboard knows it by now."

"Alright, Jesus." the brunette growled, "I suppose there's no harm in it."

She turned towards Lincoln.

"The Cap wasn't always the swashbuckling fighter she is today. She was once a doting lass, a courtier in the English colonies. Despite her pedigree, she still found time to hang with street toughs, like Luna and me. She wanted desperately for us to be her bridesmaids at her wedding." Lynn explained.

"She was married?" Lincoln gasped.

"Oy, who's telling the story?" Lynn snapped, "Anyway, she was set to be married to the captain of this frigate – a cold, abusive man who didn't love her. His whole crew's families were present to see the wedding. The bastard, though, had slept with Cap before their wedding and left her standing at the altar. Not sure if you're familiar with our customs, but when a man sleeps with a woman, it" Lynn sneered, clearly disgusted by what she said, " _depreciates_ our value. Cap could never marry a man of status again. She'd been swindled. In a rage, she found her husband at a country ball with his crew and their wives. She challenged him to a duel, much to his amusement. He underestimated her."

"She killed him?" Lincoln asked, amazed.

"It's really easy to best an opponent who believes you're incompetent." Lynn explained, "Luna and I, along with a few dozen street roughs and prostitutes had followed her and saw it all unfold. Marines tried to arrest her and a scuffle broke out. When it was over, the Captain was making an appeal to all the womenfolk present. She asked us to take up the dead men's coats and breeches, swords and pistols, and ride the waves with her aboard her dead fiancée's ship. Naturally, all of us street toughs and prostitutes who had come to respect her agreed. Many wives left their stunned sailors behind, too. Ever since, we've been sailing the waves with Clyde as our only male crewman."

"Amazing." Lincoln was bewitched, "She's even more fascinating than Captain Savvy."

"Captain Savvy?" Lynn sneered, "He's just a tale for children."

"No he's not!" the cabin boy challenged.

"Even if he _was_ real, he hated pirates." Lynn pointed out, "He's not the idol you should look to, lad. The man was an oppressive servant of the bloody British."

" _You're_ British!" Lincoln pointed out.

" _I'm_ American!" Lynn laughed, "And more importantly, I'm a pirate! I've sunk more British ships in the past three years than you've seen in your whole life."

"Quite proud of all the men you've killed, aren't you?" Lincoln snapped.

"Easy, Lincoln." Clyde stood between the two, taking their glasses away from them, "I think you've both had enough to drink."

"I don't feel much like celebrating, anyway." Lynn muttered, glaring at Lincoln, "You'll have to kill an enemy sooner or later. Then you won't be judging us so harshly."

With that, she left the two men behind her. Lincoln fell to his haunches, rubbing his temples.

"Don't worry about her, Lincoln." Clyde patted the cabin boy on the back, "To be honest, I think she likes you."

"I doubt it." Lincoln sighed, "Was she right? Will I have to kill?"

"You might." Clyde admitted, "I think Captain Lori will try her best to keep you out of the fighting, though. You're young; you shouldn't be forced to kill anyone."

"Was the last cabin girl forced?" Lincoln asked.

Clyde looked at him, but stayed silent. Then he smiled.

"You'll be helping me in the galley, a lot." he said, "So, we'll probably talk a lot."

Lincoln eyed the galley officer, unpleased with him ignoring his question, but smiled.

"I'd like that." he confessed, "You're very friendly."

"You should get some sleep while you can." Clyde advised, holding out his hand, "Nice meeting you, Lincoln."

"And you." the cabin boy took the proffered hand.

Lincoln left the galley, finding his hammock amid the dozens of other. The stench of so many unwashed bodies didn't improve just because they were women, but Lincoln had long grown used to it. He'd even grown used to Lynn's obnoxious snoring, which he could hear across the room, and Luan's sleep-talking, which was usually humorous. Finally, his exhausting day caught up with him and he fell to sleep.

His dreams were plagued by dead and dying women, looking up to him for help from oceans of blood. The screams of dying men echoed around him and the heavens rained fire and smoke. The ship he was standing upon was burning, splintering apart in a furious hail of metal shot. Lincoln had never been so scared in his life. He saw Lynn, Luna, Luan, Lori and Clyde hanging from the gallows. He saw himself jumping overboard into the ocean of blood to end the nightmare.

When he woke up in a cold sweat, it was still nighttime. Lynn was there, snoring. Luna was muttering shanty lyrics. Luan was telling jokes no one would hear. Everyone was still alive. As his breathing calmed, he noticed someone he hadn't met yet, still awake and staring at him through the doorway. He stood up and approached her.

"Hello," he greeted, "I haven't seen you before."

"I'm Lucy." the girl said. She wore almost entirely black, from her hooded cloak to her surprisingly elaborate coats. The bangs of her black hair hid her eyes along with half her pale face. "You're the new cabin boy, I take it?"

"Lincoln." he confirmed, offering a hand.

"Not many men would offer their hands to girls." Lucy noted.

"Not many girls behave like men." Lincoln pointed out. Lucy took his hand and they shook. "You're French, correct?"

" _Oui_ _monsieur_." Lucy curtsied ever so slightly, " _Parlez-vous fran_ _ç_ _ais_?"

" _Oui m'dame_." Lincoln replied, " _Mon p_ _è_ _re_ _é_ _tait fran_ _ç_ _ais_."

"I take it your mother was English, then." Lucy deduced, returning to English.

"Yes." Lincoln did the same, "I have to say how surprised I am by the many cultures on this ship. They're predominantly English, but we've some Dutch and French crewmen, too."

"You haven't met Lisa, yet." Lucy noted, "She's Italian. Sometimes we take on Hispanic and black crewwomen, but they usually jump ship when we reach free lands. Not many women are willing to take up arms."

"I never knew so many women existed who wanted to take up arms." Lincoln admitted, "At least, until I've been on this ship. There must be at least 200 aboard."

"228," Lucy said, "but good estimate. I hear the crew numbered less than fifty when they started."

"It's all quite impressive." Lincoln said, "A few days ago, I would never have believed woman could crew a ship. Now I'm aboard a vessel comprised almost entirely of women."

"I confess that's why I joined when they came to the harbors of Canada." Lucy nodded, "I'd always dreamed about a life of adventure at sea, and there it was."

"Are you a reader?" Lincoln asked.

"Of course." Lucy said.

"Were you inspired by the exploits of Captain Savvy, too?"

"I admit, he's what piqued my interest in the sea," Lucy confessed, "but I mostly read poetry. I write it, too."

"That's amazing!" Lincoln gasped. He was talking to an actual _writer_! He'd never dreamed of authoring anything in his life, and here was a girl younger than him who wrote poetry!

"It's nothing special." Lucy shrugged, "Nobody likes it, anyway."

"Never let that get you down." Lincoln said, all seriousness, "You should never give up on your passions."

"Wise words, for one so young." Lucy actually cracked a smile, "Your father's, I take it?"

"My mother's, actually." Lincoln said.

"She sounds like a great woman." Lucy said, "She'd have to be, to bring up such a fine young man."

Lincoln blushed a little at the compliment. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her blushing and curling some hair around her finger. Dear God, he thought, she's flirting with me. He wasn't sure how to respond and cleared his throat. Finally, he spoke.

"You're very pretty, Lucy." he said, blush deepening.

"You're not bad on the eyes, either." Lucy replied.

"Ugh, what utter sod." Lynn's voice broke through their conversation.

She had clearly been sleeping in her coat and breeches – as she always did. Her hair was down, framing her face in a messy halo. She looked mad.

"Ah, Lynn." Lucy's lips thinned, "I see you're awake again. Another nightmare?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Lynn growled, "What are you doing flirting with the cabin boy, anyway?"

"Why, jealous?" Lucy raised an eyebrow that no one could see beneath her bangs, then turned to Lincoln, " _Elle peut_ _ê_ _tre si idiote_."

"Speak bloody English, you little tart!" Lynn snapped.

"Ah, but you do not wish Lincoln would speak French to you?" Lucy asked, "It _is_ the language of love."

"At least I'm not throwing myself all over him, like a whore." Lynn snapped.

"Ladies, please-" Lincoln began, trying to stem the argument.

"Shut up, Lincoln!" Lynn prodded him in the chest at the same time Lucy said " _Silencieux_."

"If you want him, just ask him." Lucy offered, as monotone as ever, "Or are you afraid he'd reject you in favor of me?"

"Pshaw!" Lynn waved a hand, dismissively, "You can keep him. I'll not degrade myself for a man."

Somehow the offhand rejection stung Lincoln.

"Lynn, wait!" Lincoln said, startling both girls. On the spot, he gave a feeble grin. "Um… good night?"

"Bah!" Lynn raged, stomping away in a fury.

"As I said, she is silly." Lucy shrugged, wrapping her arm around Lincoln's, "Who needs her, anyway?"

"Uh, yeah." Lincoln muttered, removing her arm from his, "I'm sorry, Lucy, but I need some time to think."

"I understand." Lucy sighed, "I have not, exactly, given my best impression tonight."

"It's not that." Lincoln shook his head, "Lynn is one of my closest friends aboard; I feel bad that I've hurt her."

"She'll get over it." Lucy assured him, "She always recovers; it's one of the things I like about her."

"So you like her, then?" Lincoln laughed, "I couldn't tell."

"We hate each other, but like any other crewwoman aboard this ship, we would die for each other." Lucy explained, "That's what it means to be a crew."

Lincoln nodded slowly. He was beginning to learn the meaning of that word, 'crew'. Still, would Lynn really get over it? It seemed like everything he did only annoyed her more. Why did her opinion even matter, anyway?

"What nightmares woke you up?" Lucy asked, softly.

"How do you know I had nightmares?"

"Nobody wakes up at this hour unless they have nightmares." Lucy sighed, "Lynn used to tell me about hers. Every crewwoman tells me about their nightmares."

"Really?" Lincoln felt less ashamed at having had them in the first place, "Well, they were bloody. Lots of death and destruction. _Effroyable_ …"

"I've always had a grim fascination with nightmares." Lucy admitted, "Yours are pretty standard, considering this was your first battle. You've probably never had to confront death before."

"My pa was a priest, so I helped with funerals." Lincoln said, "But… no, I've never had to deal with violent death before."

"It gets easier," Lucy said, quietly, "and that's the part that's truly _effroyable_."

"I almost wish it would get easier." Lincoln sighed, "I feel sick with fear and self-loathing. I never want to do battle."

"Then you chose the wrong ship." Lucy confessed, "Sleep well, Lincoln. I must make my rounds."

Lucy left him alone with his thoughts.

 **Some notes:** _ **Effroyable**_ **means horrifying. Most of the other French you can probably infer by context. Lynn and Lucy don't hate each other; it's mostly a sibling-like rivalry that gets a little too aggressive. Yes, I am gonna ship Lincoln with several girls; you're lucky I'm not shipping him with all of them. Don't worry, though – no harem.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Thank you all. I'm glad you're all enjoying the story; I'm enjoying writing it. Also, a side note, citrus fruit wasn't officially proven to cure scurvy until 1758. The idea for Lori to put wicks in her hat is taken from Blackbeard.**

Lincoln had been excited when he was told to attend the staff meeting. To finally see Captain Lori planning their brave adventures firsthand – as well as getting the chance to meet the intrepid first officer, and the prodigal child-navigator – it had all seemed so enticing. The books always painted officers as gallant, do-or-die types who made bold decisions and took great risks.

In reality, the staff meetings were so dreadfully _boring_.

"We've got our stores positively full of powder and sugar." Luan was going over the tonnage of goods in their hold, "I've got sugar coming out of my ears!"

"There's more sugar than there is powder, that's for sure." Lynn yawned, "Shame it won't light; we could just use the sugar to fire our cannons."

"That'd be one way to blow our investment." Luan chuckled as her fellow officers groaned.

"I am already laying in a course for Barataria Bay." Lisa lisped. Lincoln still couldn't get over the fact Lisa was only eight. "From there we can strike for the Caribbean and the West Indies."

"Make it so." Lori muttered, "We should make way for Tortuga, after that. Lots of sugar to be had in Saint-Domingue – French sugar would sell well with the Spaniards."

"It might sell even better off the Barbary Coast." Luna suggested, scratching at the brown locks beneath her turban, "Hard sailing, but sugar fetches a pretty price further east."

"Lucy, have you gotten the watch list for the next week drawn up?" Lori asked.

"For the next month, Captain." Lucy confirmed.

"Excellent." Lori stood and stretched, "Spanish patrols will be harder the further south we go. Very likely we haven't seen the last of Mr. Santiago."

"Much to your everlasting joy." Luan giggled.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Lori demanded.

"Easy, Cap." Lynn said, disarmingly, "It's just that it was pretty obvious you two were hitting it off."

"He seems like a very nice gentleman." Lucy commented.

"First officer I've seen in a long time that didn't tell us to go home." Luna shook her head.

"I do miss home, though." Leni finally spoke up. She was the only girl aboard that still dressed like a woman, though in experimental dresses and fanciful hats. "How much gold do we need before we can, like, retire?"

"Pirates don't retire, Leni." Lori sighed, "We're here until the end."

"Way to sugarcoat it." Lynn muttered, slamming her mouth shut at Lori's glare.

"Surely you want to retire, though?" Lincoln said, blushing when every eye turned to him, "I mean, don't you?"

"We're fugitives, lad." Lynn shrugged, "Pirates are hanged."

"That's the law." Lucy shrugged, "As sure for woman, as it is for man."

"So you make a haven of your own." Lincoln said, "Plenty of other pirates have done it. A refuge funded with plunder, where women are the equals of men."

"Pirates might be a wee more progressive than traditional menfolk," Luan tsked, "but I doubt they'd live in a place where we're equals."

"I would." Lincoln said, resolutely.

The girls eyed him with a mixture of emotions. Lynn's breath caught in her throat while Lucy nearly swooned. Luna looked at the cabin boy as if seeing him for the first time. Luan gave a very different kind of smile than her usual, jovial one. Lisa analyzed him, eyes searching for a lie that wasn't there. Finally, Captain Lori measured him once more – as she always did.

"Why can't more men be like you?" she muttered, then shook her head. "I think that's all for today, lasses," a look at Lincoln, "and lad. Meeting adjourned. Cabin boy, go below and assist Clyde with cooking."

Lincoln saluted and hurried off. If he were being honest, working with Clyde was his favorite duty. The two of them had become fast friends, and working the galley was a lot less stressful than running to and fro across the length of the ship. With haste Lincoln descended the ladder-well and made it to the galley.

"Ready to get cooking?" Clyde asked, already chopping onions.

"You know it." Lincoln grinned.

Cooking aboard a sailing ship was very like cooking ashore. The only difference was the freshness of goods prevented most forms of food being stowed aboard the ship. Most dishes consisted of salted meats – usually fish – with half-rotted fruits and vegetables. Lori had insisted on keeping an ample supply of citrus fruits aboard to prevent scurvy, and every crew member got their fair share. Lincoln couldn't understand why or how, but he enjoyed fruit all the same.

"What's the dish today?" Lincoln asked.

"Fish stew," Clyde grinned, "again."

"Fun." Lincoln chuckled, already retrieving salted fish from a barrel.

Scaled and beheaded, the fish were deboned and cut up. Along with the diced onions and the fish, Clyde added some potatoes and a series of spices he'd picked up in his native Louisiana – a secret recipe, he claimed. Whatever it was, it made the moldy onions and salty fish taste amazing. Lincoln could see why Clyde was the galley officer.

"Hey Clyde," Lincoln spoke something he'd pondered, "you're the galley officer, so why weren't you at the officer's meeting?"

"Galley officer is just a nice way of saying cook." Clyde fixed his spectacles, "I'm only ever called upon as an officer when we have a food or water shortage, and Luna's usually good about keeping us well-stocked. She's a great quartermaster."

"She is pretty good." Lincoln confessed.

"You know, officers like us are usually unappreciated." Clyde said while stirring the pot, "One of the girls aboard – an old timer from when Lori first started – was married to a galley officer. Quartermasters, boatswains, galley officers… cabin boys. A ship couldn't run without them, but since they're not fighting, they're generally regarded as useless."

"I never thought of it that way." Lincoln said. The tales of Captain Savvy would mention cabin boys who became officers, but never explored the stories of noncombatants and the regular sailors. "I ought to write a book about people like us."

"People like us?" Clyde smirked, "Lincoln, you're on the fast track to becoming an officer yourself. We're in two separate categories."

"I'm just a cabin boy." Lincoln said.

"You're modest – that's good." Clyde stirred the stew, "You're an officer-in-the-making. You follow orders, you've got guts, and you've learned more about this ship than half the crew ever could. I wouldn't be surprised if you'd make captain of your own vessel, someday."

"I-I'm not officer material." Lincoln gaped, "I'm a peasant, for one."

"I was born a slave," the galley officer said, "would've died a slave if not for pirates. These women were born to be subservient to men; now they dominate their own lives. You may have been born a peasant, but you're a pirate now. Play your cards right and you could become anything. That's what it means to be a pirate."

"That's really inspiring, Clyde." Lincoln said, softly, "Maybe you should write the book."

"Maybe I will." Clyde laughed, "You know, Lori did teach me how to read and write. One of the reasons I love her."

"You really do, don't you?"

"Of course I do." Clyde nodded, "You ever been in love?"

"I…" Lincoln looked away, "I'm sure it's just a passing infatuation. I'm mostly confused."

"Let me guess," the galley officer grinned, "Lynn?"

" _And_ Lucy." Lincoln sighed, "I don't know how to deal with girls. My pa was a priest."

"Like a Catholic priest?" Clyde asked, "I thought they couldn't marry or… you know."

"It happened before he became a priest. They made an exception, but they'll never let him rise above a mere parish priesthood."

"Well that was nice of them." Clyde muttered, "You said Lucy _and_ Lynn? You need to pick one."

"I can't, though." Lincoln tsked, "Frankly, I don't want to ruin either friendship."

"If I were you, I'd go with the brunette." Clyde offered, "She's much cheerier, and knows how to have a good time."

"Ah, but Lucy reads and writes." Lincoln sighed, "She's got a creative soul."

"Oh brother, you are smitten." Clyde shook his head, "So ask Lucy out."

"Lynn, though…" Lincoln frowned, "I feel a deep connection with her. I like women like her: adventurous, outgoing, spirited."

"Ah, I see." Clyde extinguished the fire, "You need to make a decision before they kill each other – or you."

"They wouldn't really kill each other," Lincoln snorted before his brow furrowed, "would they?"

"I've seen duels break out over less." Clyde shrugged, "All I know is polygamy is illegal in most places."

"There's an idea." Lincoln said to himself. It wasn't a serious consideration; being brought up Catholic, polygamy was wrong in his eyes, but then again so was piracy.

Lincoln delivered the stew to the galley where most of the crew had gathered, slamming their silverware against the tables and singing shanties – led by Luna, of course. After serving his crewmates, Lincoln returned to the kitchen to clean the dishes. Normally, he'd have to clean them himself, but Clyde helped just to keep conversing with him.

"Was it hard?" Lincoln asked, "Being a slave, I mean."

"I was lucky." Clyde shrugged, "I kept my head down, so I was barely ever whipped, but my family… They weren't so lucky. The work was grueling and demeaning. It's a hell you can't even imagine. Thank God it's over."

"Did the Captain free your family too?" Lincoln asked. Clyde stopped scrubbing.

"My pa was killed trying to escape," he said, softly, "my ma died from infected whiplashes."

"I'm sorry." Lincoln said.

"It's not your fault." Clyde shrugged, "Besides, you come from a family of abolitionists, right? I could never blame them for the faults of slavers."

"Still, it's immoral." Lincoln shook his head, "How can fine Christian men allow such atrocity?"

"You should ask the natives that one." Clyde pointed out, "The English, the Spanish, even the French won't rest until all their lands are theirs. Then they'll be the slaves."

"No!" Lincoln said, firmly, surprising Clyde, "I'll see to it every slave, every native, is given their freedom. We're pirates, right? I'll plea with the Captain herself to liberate everyone we come across. I'll beg if I have to!"

"Do you read Locke, or something?" Clyde smiled, "It's a beautiful dream, Lincoln, but you can't free everyone."

"I can die trying." Lincoln asserted.

Clyde allowed surprise to show on his face. Lincoln was serious.

"You'd really stand against every government?" he asked, "Piracy is one thing. What you're suggesting is revolution, if not all-out war – with _every_ one."

"I'd rather die fighting for what I believe in than live in a world where men and women live in chains." Lincoln spat, "I never knew the world was so wretched!"

"Even if all blacks were free, and all natives had their land back, and all women could wear pants," Clyde sighed, "men in power will never view us as equals."

"Then we take power." Lincoln said, "Pirates are feared because they dominate the seas. The empires are at war, and we roam where we please! If we united, we could crush their navies, breaking the chains of the New World!"

"That's very ambitious, Lincoln." the galley officer nodded, soberly, "Nobody would follow Captain Lori, though. Nobody's man enough to follow a woman."

"We do." Lincoln contested, "Others could, too. She's amazing!"

"That she is." Clyde agreed, "I don't think she'd want to lead a revolution, though."

"You're probably right." Lincoln sighed, "Still, I'd like to try. Don't you dream of actually _doing_ something with all this gold and power we take? We're accumulating wealth, but to what end?"

"All the same, I suggest you wait until you make officer to start suggesting pipe dreams." Clyde advised, "They're crazy enough, as it is; imagine the reception they'd get coming from a cabin boy."

"Yeah, that's true." Lincoln chuckled, "They'd probably kick me off the ship."

"I don't think they'd go that far." Clyde said.

Their conversation was interrupted by shouting and Lynn busting into the kitchen.

"A ship-of-the-line's been spotted our starboard aft!" she said, "Captain wants all hands on deck in case we can't outrun her!"

"But our holds are filled with cargo!" Lincoln exclaimed, "There's no way we can outrun them!"

"That's why she wants us on deck!" Lynn snapped, hurrying off to the gundecks.

"She'll need her runner." Clyde said, "Wait! Before you go, take this."

Clyde searched inside a cupboard and produced a fine flintlock pistol. He loaded it before placing it in a brace and handing it to Lincoln.

"I usually keep it, just in case." Clyde said, "It's yours if you need it."

"What if you need it?" Lincoln asked, taking the belted firearm gingerly.

"If they get this far into the ship, we're very likely all dead, anyway." Clyde grinned, "Now hurry."

Lincoln finished belting on the brace just moments before he nearly slammed into Captain Lori. The Captain hid her surprise.

"There you are," she muttered, "hurry up, lad, we've not much time."

"Captain, there's no way we can outrun that vessel." Lincoln said, "She'll overpower us in a fight, too. What'll we do?"

"We'll do the only thing we can do," Lori said, "we'll make our stand."

"That's suicide!" Lincoln spluttered.

"Got a better idea?" Lori demanded.

Lincoln thought about it. Something truly radical entered his mind and he grinned – a little too much like a wolf for Lori's liking.

"Actually," he said, "I do."

He told Lori his plan as they made their way towards the helm. It was so insane, it made Lori stop in her tracks for a moment.

"I guess we've nothing better," she muttered, "might as well go out in a blaze of glory."

"It's almost night." Lincoln pointed out, "Their cannons will be next to useless if they can't see us."

"Still, driving ourselves right into their teeth…" Lori shook her head, "It's extreme."

"Got a better idea?" Lincoln repeated her own words. They shared a mirthless smile.

"Alright, kid." she sighed in resignation, "Run the orders to Lynn. I'll fill Luna in on the plan."

Lincoln ran to the gundecks. Lynn was busy getting her crews to ready powder and munitions. She saw him and headed towards him.

"I take it this is it, then?" she asked, her tone all icy resignation.

"Hopefully not." Lincoln said, "Captain Lori wants you to load the portside cannons with double powder and shot."

"That's ridiculous!" Lynn snapped, "We'd have to wait until they're right on top of us to fire!"

"Exactly."

"So we just avoid shooting until that ship-of-the-line has blown us to splinters?"

"She can't blow us apart if she can't see us." Lincoln grinned, "No shooting until they're right next to us – clear their gundecks – than, we board."

"This is suicide." Lynn muttered, "What is the Cap thinking?"

"Actually, it was my idea." Lincoln shrugged, "I figured we were dead anyway, so… _c'est la vie_."

"You're insane." Lynn cracked a smile, "Alright, then; no firing until they're within arm's reach."

"Thank God it'll be a cloudy night, or this would never work." Lincoln said, hurrying off to find Lori.

The ship was already turning sharply to starboard as the last of the light faded. The ship-of-the-line was firing, but _Our Fair Lady_ was too far out still for the shots to hit home. Luna steered the ship in a serpentine pattern while Lola shouted the position of the enemy. They were easy to spot, even in pitch blackness; the cannons gave them away, their light sparking away in the night, along with their torches. Lincoln braced himself; this was actually a really stupid plan! What if the ships rammed each other? What if the light from the enemy cannons gave _Our Fair Lady_ 's position away? What if the clouds parted and moonlight foiled their plans?

Nothing for it, now.

It was slow going. Painfully slow. Terrifyingly slow. Only Lori seemed unperturbed by the danger of the mission, placing – of all things – wicks in her tricorn. Lincoln had no idea why she was doing it, but thought it better not to ask. Finally, they pulled up alongside the much larger vessel, the enemy crew finally spotting them. Before they could bellow a warning, Lynn's cannonade erupted and flushed through the ports of the ship-of-the-line. No cannons answered in reply, but Lincoln knew Lynn was loading a second volley, just in case.

Already, grappling hooks were being tossed into the riggings and deck railings of the enemy vessel. The enemy crew had their sharpshooters firing onto the deck, but most of the shots missed in the darkness. Most. Lincoln watched a woman fall backwards with an ugly hole blown through her chest. In the end, though, the smaller vessel was prepared to board.

Lori lit the wicks in her hat, illuminating her face in a frightful fury, smoke rising above the tricorn. She unsheathed her sword and ordered the pirates to board. Lincoln watched the battle unfold with anxiety. A ship-of-the-line had a substantially larger crew than a mere frigate. Boarding them might have given the crew of _Our Fair Lady_ the advantage of surprise, but numbers could mean everything. Lori was hacking her way through the mob of marines and sailors, which Lincoln could now see were Spaniards, but the numbers of the mob started to show. Lincoln gasped as the pirates died in droves, Lori and her retinue being driven back towards the railing. This was it, Lincoln dreaded, the Captain would die.

Then a miracle happened.

A contingent of enemy crewmen swelled up from below and turned their weapons on the Spaniards. At their head was a man Lincoln had never thought he'd see again: Bobby Santiago. The cabin boy watched in awe as the failed endeavor of the pirates turned into a sweeping victory. Most of the enemy lay dead, pincered between Bobby's turncoats and Lori's pirates; the remainder were throwing down their arms in surrender. Bobby and Lori were talking – most likely flirting – aboard the ship-of-the-line before both returned to the frigate.

"Ladies and gentleman," Lori announced, "meet the newest buccaneer of the high seas, Bobby Santiago!"

The crew erupted in cheers for the hero of the day.

"How'd this happen?" Lincoln asked, "I thought you'd be long gone."

"This ship came to rescue our brigs, then set off after you guys, uh, girls." Bobby explained, "The captain of the vessel thought I was a traitor and put me in chains, can you believe that?"

"Unfortunately." Lincoln shook his head, ruefully.

"Anyway, my crew was taken into their crew, but still loyal to me." Bobby explained, "While I was rotting in a cell, I thought about your offer to become a pirate and thought, 'why not?' and convinced my crew, too. They spread the word, and soon enough we had half the Latino crew on our side! When you all attacked, we decided to make our move."

"So what do we do with this prize, Captain?" Luna asked, eyeing the ship-of-the-line with envy.

"I've promised it to Bobby, here." Lori explained. The female pirates erupted into a chorus of protest, but Lori stamped it down. "This ship is our ship. We've fought through Hell and high water aboard it, and we've achieved great things! I will never abandon her. Besides which, Bobby here is an ally of ours. Isn't that right?"

"Absolutely." Bobby grinned, "I'm sick of the Spanish treating us like trash."

"So we have a fleet now?" Lynn asked, coming up from below.

"No, sadly." Lori sighed, "Bobby here is going to strike out on his own, though hopefully our paths cross again in the future."

"Hopefully." Bobby smiled.

Lincoln wondered what Bobby had planned. He had a ship-of-the-line under his command, and the freedom of piracy as his only law. Within the hour both crews were aboard their respective ships and sailing in different directions. The cabin boy wondered if they'd ever see Bobby again; he certainly hoped so.

Before heading below, he saw Lori staring after the disappearing vessel, even after it was long gone.

 **Kind of a weird ending there. Wasn't sure how to tweak it, you know?**


	5. Chapter 5

**Ronnie Anne's coming guys; be patient. I must write her in properly, not rushed. It wouldn't make much sense for her to be in a pirate haven if her brother** _ **just**_ **became a pirate. She's coming, though, so don't worry. On another note, none of Loud siblings are related in this story,** _ **except**_ **Lola and Lana, because twins are fun.**

 **I'm not religious (certainly not Christian), if my other fics weren't evidence enough; the constant references to Catholicism, God, Christ, etc. are because its 1710, so everyone was pretty much religious at the time.**

 **What I refer to as tennis is not modern tennis, mind you, but one of its ancestors practiced during the early 18** **th** **century.**

 **Also, don't ask what two Spanish brigs were doing so far north of Louisiana. I wasn't thinking when I did that.**

Lincoln had almost forgotten what being on land was like after sailing for so many weeks. Or had it been months? Either way, the sensation of _terra firma_ beneath his boots was odd after so long swaying aboard a floating surface. Most of the crew had disembarked to enjoy the haven of Barataria Bay – especially Clyde, being a native of Louisiana.

"Finally, you're going to have a taste of _real_ cooking." Clyde said, patting his friend on the back, "Doesn't get much better than Louisiana."

"I can believe that." Lincoln grinned. If Clyde could make salted meat and outdated produce edible, Lincoln was looking forward to seeing what could be done with fresh ingredients.

The two men weren't as out of place in a port made up predominantly of men – another sensation Lincoln was trying to get used to. Amazingly, the pirates and other ne'er-do-wells in the haven gave the _femme fatales_ sufficient room, some going so far as to remove their hats in respect. Apparently, the crew of _Our Fair Lady_ had something of a reputation…

"Why aren't any of them being discourteous?" Lincoln asked.

"When Captain Lori was just starting out, a crew kept harassing hers." Clyde explained, "Long story short, Cap had them rounded up and castrated."

"Christ above!" Lincoln crossed himself, "I never knew she could behave so savagely."

"She had to prove a point," the galley officer shrugged, "nothing tells men not to mess with you more than a hundred severed genitals."

"I think I'm going to be sick." Lincoln muttered to himself.

"Ever since then, she's earned a reputation as a man-hating witch of the seas." Clyde continued, "The men that serve with her – you and I – also have a reputation as eunuchs."

"Hysterical." the cabin boy grunted.

They two youths continued their advance through the haven's market, gathering fresh produce and meats while being avoided as pariahs. Lincoln had always expected his new life of piracy would make him an outcast, but he'd never dreamed he'd be an outcast amongst fellow outlaws! Oh well, nothing for it now. They finished gathering ingredients and returned to where their ship was docked. Most of the crew was still ashore, enjoying their free time while it lasted. Many were flirting with men – incredibly frightened men, given the crew's reputation.

"You ever resolve the Lynn/Lucy situation?" Clyde asked.

"I only ever see Lucy at officer meetings, since she's on the night watch." Lincoln said, "Lynn and I still hang out, but I haven't tried to flirt with her."

"Afraid she'll reject you?" Clyde asked.

"I'm afraid she'd break my arms." Lincoln confessed, "Tougher than nails, that one."

"That she is." Clyde agreed, "I'm sure the right girl for you is out there, somewhere."

Lincoln made a noncommittal grunt before changing the subject, "Where do you reckon the Cap will take us next?"

"We'll probably raid the coasts of Saint-Domingue or Cuba," Clyde said, "drop our goods off in Tortuga, or maybe sail them to the Barbary Coast."

"I never dreamed of going as far as Africa." Lincoln breathed, "From what I've read, it sounds so exotic."

"It's… got its perks." Clyde shrugged, "Really, to me, it's like any other pirate haven. Seen one, seen them all."

The two set about stowing their provisions into crates and barrels before disembarking again. It wasn't every day you put in for port, so they were going to make the most of it. Before they could make good on their plans, however, Lynn appeared, conveniently placing herself between the two.

"Mind if I steal the cabin boy, Clyde?" she asked, grinning cheekily.

"Do I have a choice?" the galley officer sighed, "I'll leave you two alone. Good luck, Lincoln."

Lincoln gulped.

The two teens walked away, men all but jumping out of the way of their approach once they recognized Lynn as a female pirate. It occurred to Lincoln that Lynn had been one of Lori's original crew and very likely involved in the castrating of men. He wasn't even sure how large the ship had been, or the crew; it could have been as little as thirty men, but that didn't make it any less terrifying. Finally, in a secluded alley, they stopped.

"It's hard to believe just a week ago you were begging me to come aboard." Lynn said at last.

"It's only been a week?" Lincoln asked, "Seems longer than that."

"I know," the gunnery officer nodded, "feels like you've been part of the crew forever. You know, Linc, you're special to us."

"Thanks, Lynn." the cabin boy smiled meekly.

"I mean it." Lynn continued, "After the last cabin girl, the Captain became… different. Like a part of our soul as a crew had been snuffed out. We're more than a band of pirates; we're a haven for free women everywhere who want a life of adventure on the seas. With Linka, we failed…"

Lincoln stayed silent. He'd always secretly wondered what the old cabin girl's name had been; it should not have come as a surprise that it started with 'L'.

"I just wanted you to know you mean a lot to us, Linc." Lynn said at last, "If the going ever gets too rough, you can talk to any of us. Especially me."

With that, she blushed and cleared her throat.

"Anyway, enough of that sod," she continued, cheerier than before, "let's see what sports the lads play around here."

"I don't think there's many sports in a pirate haven." Lincoln said.

"Not sports in the traditional sense, sadly," Lynn confessed, "but there's always gambling to be had."

"Is that wise?" the cabin boy asked.

"For a kid who traded his life for one of piracy, you have a lot to learn about living." Lynn chuckled.

Lincoln's gaze strayed to the ocean where a familiar ship-of-the-line caught his eye.

"Isn't that Captain Bobby's ship?" he asked.

"Huh, looks like it." Lynn agreed, "He's heading south awfully fast. Wonder why he's not bothering to put in here, though."

"He must have somewhere else to be." Lincoln suggested, "A ship that large has stores and supplies that'd last much longer than ours."

"True enough." Lynn shrugged it off, "Anyway, let's find some rum and a good game of liar's dice."

"I don't know, Lynn…" Lincoln rubbed the nape of his neck, "This sounds really irresponsible."

"Don't be such a wet blanket, Linc!" Lynn snorted, "What could possibly go wrong?"

She had to say that. Two hours later, the gunnery officer and cabin boy were standing before the Captain herself in her cabin. Lori didn't say anything, contenting herself to stare out the window that made-up part of the stern. Lynn rubbed at her bruised jaw, occasionally smearing the blood from her lip across her face. Lincoln stayed perfectly still, his bowels all ice. His eye was in pain, swollen from a rather ham-fisted punch thrown at him. Their weapons – Lynn's brace of pistols and cutlass, and Lincoln's loaned pistol – laid on the Captain's table. Finally, she turned to face them.

"Mind telling me why you two thought it wise to pick a fight with five sea dogs?" she asked, almost sweetly. Lincoln gulped.

"Well, Cap, they accused Linc here – that is, Cabin Boy Lincoln – of cheating," Lynn explained, "I couldn't let that slide against his honor stand."

"Gambling?!" Lori snapped, slamming her hands on the table. Only Lincoln flinched. "Damn it, Lynn, why do you always insist on gambling in port?!"

"I'd prefer a rousing game of tennis, but that doesn't seem all-too-popular with pirates." Lynn grinned.

"This isn't funny!" Lori said, "By the powers, Lincoln could've been killed!"

Lynn shut up at the suggestion, her grin fading.

"It's not all her fault." Lincoln lied, "I've never played liar's dice before. I wanted to try it."

Lori looked at them, oddly.

"They accused you of cheating at _liar's dice_?" she asked, bewildered.

"Aye." Lynn nodded.

"Idiots deserved some sense beaten into them." Lori muttered, "Look, no more gambling ashore. We'll find something to keep you busy in port – tennis, right?"

"No pirate plays tennis!" Lynn repeated, "None of the women, nor the men, are familiar with the sport. Who would play with me, huh? You?" then she hastily added, "Er, Cap'n."

"I know tennis," Lincoln said, "it _is_ a French game, after all."

"Ugh, gross." Lynn muttered, Francophobe until the end.

"There," Lori sighed, "you have a playmate. Tennis is a lot less bleeding dangerous than gambling with murderers and thieves."

"Sounds like our usually lot." Lynn chuckled.

"I'm serious, Lynn." Lori said, and Lincoln was stunned by the tears in her eyes, "I don't want anyone dead over a stupid game." She cleared her throat. "Dismissed."

"Aye-aye." Lynn said, softly, "Come on, Linc."

"Just a moment, Captain." Lincoln said, "We saw Bobby, um, Captain Santiago's ship sailing south. He seemed in a hurry."

"Why should I care?" Lori asked, but her words lacked venom.

"I just thought that, well if we're lacking a destination…" Lincoln shrugged, "the Caribbean is quite lovely this year, so I'm told."

Lori eyed him sternly before cracking a grin.

"Aye, it is." she mused, "I'll tell Lisa to plot us a course for Tortuga after we're finished selling our sugar."

Lincoln and Lynn grabbed their weapons and departed, heading above and resting against the railings. It was getting late in the day and, considering the brawl that had erupted earlier, neither crewmate felt like leaving again. Besides, it had been too long since Lincoln could just rest and watch the waves crash against the beach. It was like the Great Lakes of Michigan, yet different. The climate was different, as was the smell, and the colors in the water. Still, it had the same calming effect, especially with the gulls overhead.

"Thanks for what you did back there." Lynn said after a while.

"What did I do?" Lincoln asked, still watching the waves.

"Taking some of the heat off me, saying it was your idea to play liar's dice and all that." Lynn explained, "Took a lot of guts, especially after that horror story Clyde told you."

"Ah, you overheard that?" Lincoln laughed, mirthlessly.

"It wasn't the whole crew." Lynn said, "Just a sop who tried to molest Lola."

" _Lola_?" Lincoln was disgusted – the girl was ten! "It might not be very Christian of me, but the man deserved to have his balls lobbed off."

"Ah, we'll make a proper pirate of you yet." Lynn laughed, "It was pretty clever how you got the Cap sidetracked with Bobby at the end."

"She seemed like she could use something to get her mind off the work." Lincoln shrugged.

"It was also really smart, the plan you came up with to stop that Spanish ship-of-the-line." Lynn added, "Really smart. And really brave."

With that, she kissed Lincoln on the cheek and walked away. The cabin boy was so stunned he froze up. By the time he snapped out of his stupor, Lynn had disappeared from the deck. Fortunately, there seemed to be no witnesses.

"Oh, I am going to give her such hell later." Luan's voice could be heard. Lincoln spun around, blushing. "You're a smooth operator, aren't you?"

"What are you doing here?" Lincoln asked, "Why aren't you out enjoying shore leave?"

"I'm the boatswain, remember?" Luan giggled, "I have to make sure this ship is repaired and ready before we set sail again."

Lincoln made a noncommittal noise, returning to staring at the ocean in the hope that Luan wouldn't see him blushing.

"You really are something, you know that?" she said, leaning against the railing beside him, "You begged your way aboard, talk a big game about freeing women and slaves, save _Our Fair Lady_ from destruction, and take the heat from the Cap for Lynn. I've met a lot of men, but none of them have been half the man you are."

"How did you know I wanted to free slaves, too?" Lincoln asked. Last he remembered, that conversation had been between him and Clyde.

"Lucy told me." Luan said.

"How did she know?" Lincoln balked.

"Lucy sees and hears everything." Luan grinned, slyly, "It's her job."

For the first time, Lincoln noticed the railing he was leaning against was the same spot a cannonball had splintered days ago. Already repainted, too. Luan worked fast.

"Now you swoop in and win over nearly every woman on the ship," the boatswain sighed, "Lynn's right, you are brave."

"I'm not brave." Lincoln huffed, "I've been in two battles and both times I avoided fighting."

"That's what makes you so brave." Luan said.

"What?"

"It takes a brave man to resist the urge to defend himself." Luan said, "For a woman, it's easier to stay a noncombatant. Nobody, not even the Cap, expects us all to kill and die. For a man, though, it always seems a point of honor. Menfolk seem suicidal in their obligation to fight. You don't, though. You don't want to kill, so you don't kill, regardless of what others think. You stand by your principles and that's brave."

Lincoln looked at Luan.

"Why are you so somber today?" he asked.

Luan looked away, staring off into the sea.

"I help Lucy with her job, sometimes." Luan said, simply, "Not her job as watch officer; her other job."

"She has another job?" Lincoln asked, surprised.

"Aye." Luan sighed, "She buries our dead. When I joined the crew, I was dead-set on raising morale with jokes and fun stories. Lucy was the only one I could never get to laugh, but she says I do cheer her up. So, I help her with the job that needs doing when it gets too difficult to do alone."

"She's so young, though," the cabin boy shook his head, "why did Captain Lori assign her to that job?"

"The Cap didn't assign it," Luan said, "Lucy volunteered."

"Why?"

"I don't know." Luan said, "It's a service to the crew; like my attempts at comedy."

"They're more than attempts, Luan." Lincoln placed a hand on her shoulder and they locked eyes, "You give the crew heart; you remind them they're not just criminals, but humans. You _are_ funny. I love your jokes."

Luan face split into a sober smile as she pushed herself off the railing.

"As I said, Lincoln," she sighed while walking away, "you're a smooth operator."

Lincoln furrowed his brow and returned his gaze to the ocean. Women were confusing.


	6. Chapter 6

**By popular demand, I feel it's time to introduce Ronnie Anne. Thus, this chapter follows Bobby. They're speaking Spanish, but I'm putting it in English. I'm assuming, probably quite wrongly, that Bobby and Ronnie Anne are of Mexican descent. My other guesses were Brazilian and Cuban. I'm trying to paint him as a chill guy, but he also must be a pirate captain, so… yeah.**

 **Also, expect some OCs. I didn't want to, but there must be officers aboard Bobby's ship, right?**

"The crew wonders why we're making such speed for Mexico," one of Bobby's appointed officers said, "we should have put in for repairs and to recruit more crew."

"Our ship is manned by a skeleton crew!" another officer snapped, "The prisoners are growing restless, we're being worked to death, and you are throwing us into Spanish waters!"

The other officers muttered similar dissent.

"Relax, my friends." Bobby held his hand up, defensively, "We must return to Mexico at once."

"Why?" the second officer demanded.

"Nearly all the crew who sided with me is from Mexico, yes?" Bobby asked, "The Spanish will know that. They'll come to punish our families. We must make it to Mexico to save them."

"Our families?!" another officer exclaimed, "You're looking at bringing upwards of five men and women per crewmate! They're dead, Captain Santiago. Accept it."

"Bobby." the Captain corrected.

"Pardon?" the officer asked.

"Call me Captain Bobby." Bobby said, "It has a nice ring to it."

"Um… yes sir."

"Our families are safe, for now." Bobby continued, "Until the Spanish discover our treason, we have the opportunity to save them. Would you deny the crews the lives of their families?"

The officers stayed silent, some faces flushing in shame at the veiled accusation.

"I didn't think so." Bobby chuckled, "We have the advantage that nearly our entire crew comes from the Yucatan coastal area."

"With the added advantage that _your_ family is there, of course." an officer muttered.

Bobby didn't hold anything against his officers. They had been crewmen from poor families who never dreamed of lives as fugitives. They'd risked their lives and careers to save him. He was asking a lot, but he was also trying to grant them security for their loved ones. Still, he wouldn't hold any grudges. The men were weary and stressed.

"How much longer until we reach Yucatan?" Bobby asked, "We won't have much time once we're there."

"At this rate, we should be there by tomorrow," an officer sighed in resignation, "We can't put into a Spanish port, though."

"Most of the men are from surrounding areas, anyway." Bobby pointed out.

"Your family lives in a port, though."

"I'll go alone to rescue them," Bobby turned to face his officers, smiling disarmingly, "don't leave without me."

His officers eyed each other levelly. For a moment, Bobby was worried they _would_ leave him. He'd certainly given them more problems than solutions, fine captain he was. Finally, though, they nodded as one. For all their faults, his appointed officers were fine men whom he'd had the pleasure of serving with for most of his naval years. His first mate, the dour Sebastian Sanchez; his navigator Carlos Rodrigues; Quartermaster Enrico Bolivar; Boatswain Manuel Diez; and Gunnery Officer Jesus Hernandez. Everyone was Latin American, none were nobles; their families had never left the Yucatan region, had never dreamed of life away from Spanish rule.

Bobby would change that, for better or worse. If he could, he'd beat the Spanish and British back to Europe; their rule had been harsh and abusive. It was time for the Americas to be freed. A new law code was needed for such a free world – a code whispered about in taverns, passed down by brigands and buccaneers for generations: the hallowed Pirate Code. A rumor, surely, but one Bobby intended to hunt down.

But first they had to rescue their families. Bobby stayed up through the night with his exhausted crew. As a captain, he had the perk to rest while those under him suffered, but Bobby was not the sort to do such. He was a workaholic, if nothing else, who had always dreamed of getting command of his own ship. Bobby never dreamed he'd take a ship by force, though.

As the sun rose, he watched Yucatan draw nearer. They moored near an isolated stretch of beach near, yet out of sight of, the dreaded Spanish ports. It would take, Bobby estimated, each of the crewmen less than a day to gather their families from the nearby villages. For Bobby, though, it might take longer since his home city was one of the ports they were hiding from. Longer still to avoid Spanish patrols. His officers changed into civilian's clothes, exchanged hugs and tearful farewells. It seemed none of them expected to see him again.

No matter. Bobby _had_ to save his family, small as it was, for they were all he truly cared for. One relative in particular was foremost in his mind as he bought a horse from a nearby villager. He would save her, even if he died in the process. Nearly half the day was gone by the time he finally arrived in his hometown.

"Alright," he muttered to himself, "where was my sweet, little home?"

Bobby found it, quick enough. It was humble for a city so large, but definitely the home of a wealthier native. It was said that the Santiagos were descendants of Cortes himself – a fact that assured their nobility while simultaneously disgusting them. To be descended from a butcher was not the legacy Bobby wished to inherit. He knocked on the door, pleased to see his old servant.

"Pablo!" Bobby exclaimed.

"Master Roberto." the native sighed, already exasperated, "Here for a visit already? Your letter indicated your fleet would be in Florida."

"It's a long story," Bobby waved the issue off, "are the others here?"

Pablo hesitated, a curious glint in the eye.

"You… have not received the letter?" he asked.

"No?" Bobby quirked an eyebrow.

"I see…" Pablo exhaled, clearly distressed, "I regret to inform you that your mother has passed."

His servant might as well have shot him in the stomach with a cannonball.

"I-I don't understand, the medicine was working!" Bobby exclaimed, "The doctor said malaria was treatable!"

"The doctor is a drunk." Pablo said, firmly before his expression softened, "I'm so sorry, Master Roberto."

"Don't call me that." Bobby grimaced, "Where is Ronnie Anne?"

"She's out back." Pablo said, "The rest of the staff and I have been taking care of her as best we can, but… she's changed."

"I don't care, she's still my sister." Bobby said, "Gather the staff in the house. I have an announcement to make."

Bobby followed the little path to the spacious backyard. Ronnie Anne was seated on a wooden swing, listing idly in the shade of a great oak. Bobby approached, hesitantly.

"Ronnie Anne?" he asked.

"Go away, Roberto." Ronnie Anne said, "It's what you're good at."

Again, Bobby felt his insides twist. Ronnie Anne was the most important person in the world to him. Their father had died from yellow fever, and Bobby had long reconciled that their mother would die eventually – he'd never expected it to be so soon, especially with her success against malaria. If Ronnie Anne hated him on top of all that, he might as well be dead.

"I've come to take you away with me," he explained, "we're going to leave this house, all this sadness, behind us. The seas and ports will be our homes."

"Women aren't allowed aboard ships." Ronnie Anne sneered, kicking at the ground, "You taught me that."

"I was wrong." Bobby smiled, meekly. Ronnie Anne stayed silent, so he continued, "I have my own ship, now. It's big."

"I'll bet." Ronnie Anne spat, "Did your captain let you have one of the dinghies?"

"I'm serious, Ronnie Anne." Bobby said, "It's huge. A ship-of-the-line."

"Stop messing with me," the girl growled, "I'm not in the mood."

"This isn't a joke," her brother replied, "I'm going to take you away from here. We have to leave, now; it's not safe anymore."

Ronnie Anne finally turned to look at her brother. She may have been a mere girl of fourteen, but she was as sharp as a tack. Her brother was hiding something, something bad that he did that they had to run away from. Something so bad her life was in danger. Something to do with this mythical ship-of-the-line.

"What have you done, Roberto?" she asked, quietly.

"I will explain inside." Bobby promised. She followed him inside where their servants – much fewer now – were waiting, just as Bobby had instructed. He exhaled to calm himself. "Friends, dear sister, I am now the captain of my own vessel, a ship-of-the-line."

The servants applauded, though confusion was evident on their faces. Bobby was a lieutenant last they'd seen him, which was not long ago. Certainly, not long enough to earn captaincy of a massive ship. Now he was wearing civilian clothes, too, instead of a uniform.

"That is the good news." Bobby continued and the applause stopped, "I am now on the run from Spanish law. I am a pirate."

The servants stayed silent, shock engraved on their faces. Ronnie Anne's mouth dropped open. She realized he wasn't lying and steadied her hands against the pleats of her dress.

"When my betrayal is discovered, the Spanish will descend on this house seeking retribution." Bobby wiped tears from his eyes, "They will kill all of you, if you do not escape."

"Where would you go?" one servant demanded, "No one will hire servants of a brigand!"

"I am deeply sorry for my transgression against you, but the Spanish are slavers and butchers." Bobby said, "We are natives, and we are treated as second- and third-class people. Many are treated little better than chattel, and it is not right! So, I resist. I extend an invitation to all of you, my faithful friends, to join me on my vessel. Shed your chains for a life at sea."

"Women aren't allowed aboard sea vessels." a maid pointed out, "We're bad luck, supposedly."

"I was given my ship by a crew of women." Bobby explained, surprising everyone again, "A woman might not be allowed to be a sailor, but she can definitely be a pirate."

"We don't want to be criminals." Pablo said, "What about our families?"

"The Spanish will not harm your families if you flee," Bobby said, "but they will harm them if you return to them. You are like family to me, and the Governor knows this. He will make you suffer to make me suffer. Flight is your only chance."

The servants looked at each other before slowly filing out of the house until only Pablo remained. He smiled, bleakly.

"I swore to your father _and_ your mother on their deathbeds that I'd look after you, and here you've gone and made my job difficult." he chuckled, "I suppose I'll be calling you _Captain_ Roberto now?"

"No," the pirate shook his head, "I go by Bobby now."

They took three horses from his family's stables and rode off towards the isolated coastline where their ship was moored. Fortunately, crewmen were still returning with their families – the ones who didn't just jump ship – so the ship-of-the-line was still present. Ronnie Anne's face lit up at the sight, and that made Bobby's heart soar. It was good to see her bitterness fade, especially after he had left her behind when she needed him the most. Never again, though, would he leave her unprotected.

By sunset most of the crew had returned. The only ones that hadn't all came from nearby villages. Bobby knew they had deserted him, but it did not matter. He only hoped they could escape and secure the safety of their families before the Spanish descended on them. Bobby was pleased to see none of his officers had deserted.

"I think that's everyone that's coming, Captain." Sebastian said, "We'll be hard-pressed to sail, now, what with how few crew we have."

"What are you talking about, Sebastian?" Bobby grinned, "Our decks are bristling with potential crewmen and women."

"Children and women working a ship?" Enrico blinked, "That's madness!"

"It's a temporary solution at best." Sebastian said, "Until we can put in at one of those damned havens and recruit a _real_ crew."

"Most of ours will likely jump ship at the first haven." Manuel muttered, darkly.

"Are we ready to set sail?" Bobby asked.

"The men are exhausted." Sebastian explained, "They need rest."

"They can rest in Tortuga," Bobby said, "tell the men I'll pay them each five pesetas and give them a week shore leave if we make it."

"Holy…" Sebastian muttered as the officers blanched.

"It'll come out of my own pocket, never fear." Bobby smiled, "We must make for Tortuga as soon as possible, though."

"I'll tell the men." Sebastian nodded.

"I'll man the helm." Enrico said.

His officers left to attend to their respective duties. As he had done in nights past, Bobby would stand before his men as they labored under the extremes. Exhaustion was eating away at them all, but Bobby was confident they could make it to Tortuga if their morale held. Thus, Bobby had to inspire the men.

And what was more inspiring than a captain sharing the workload?

 **Sorry for the short chapter. Also, sorry for killing off Bobby and Ronnie Anne's parents, but considering I know nothing about them, it made for easier writing. Not a lot going on in this chapter except an introduction of Ronnie Anne. Next chapter: Tortuga.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Alright, got some questions about ages. Lily's still a baby and probably won't make many appearances. Lisa is 8; Lola and Lana are twins at 10; Clyde is 13; Lucy, Lincoln and Ronnie Anne are 14; Lynn is 15; Luan is 16; Luna is 17; Bobby and Leni are 19; and Lori is 22. The longest-serving crewwomen are Lori, Luna and Lynn, all at three years (so they started at 19, 14 and 12, respectively).**

 **Bosun is another name for boatswain.**

For the most (in)famous pirate haven in the Caribbean, Lincoln felt Tortuga left a lot to be desired. Still, it was larger and nicer than the Banaras Bay. Just northwest of Saint-Domingue, the little island was abuzz with activity. Stalls and kiosks were set up around the port in ramshackle-style, impoverished men and women hawking wares and whores. Drunken louts wandered the streets from tavern to tavern, brothel to brothel.

"God above, what a sight." Lincoln said to Clyde.

"Yeah, it takes some getting used to," the galley officer chuckled, "Nassau is a little better, and Havana is very nice."

"But Havana isn't a haven." Lincoln pointed out.

"No, but pirates don't always have to dock in havens." Clyde explained, "It's more dangerous, true, but the payoff is generally worth it."

"Aye," Lynn joined them, "the British will pay through the nose for sugar, and the Spanish for Canadian molasses."

"And who doesn't love rum?" Luan asked as she approached.

"Ah, is the bosun joining us ashore this time?" Lincoln asked.

"Yes, actually," Luan giggled, "Our ship's in tip-top shape, and the Cap wants me away from her."

"Why is that?" Clyde asked.

"She's probably inviting Captain Bobby over." Luan wiggled her eyebrows, "Lola spotted his ship pulling into port not too long ago."

"Bobby?" Clyde furrowed his brow, "I don't like the sound of this guy; who is he?"

"He's a Spaniard we let live." Lynn explained, "Took over a ship-of-the-line – with our help, of course. Now he's captain."

"Sounds like a bad fit." Clyde muttered.

"Jealous?" Lynn smirked, "You should be; the man's pretty suave."

"Captain Lori is totally in love with…" Luan said before turning around. She gasped at the Captain and the first mate standing before them. Both Lynn and Luan paled.

"Scuttlebutt is best left aboard, bosun." Lori warned. She turned towards Lincoln, "Cabin boy, you're with me."

"Uh, aye-aye Captain!" Lincoln shot a quick wave to his friends and followed Lori, "Where are we headed?"

"Where that nosey boatswain said we were headed," Lori growled, "to Captain Bobby's ship."

"We're going to, like, invite him to the fleet again." Leni explained, "He must be done with whatever chores he needed to take care of."

Lincoln only nodded as he kept pace with his superiors. As usually, Lori wore her teal frock coat and khaki breeches, lit wicks trailing from her tricorn. Leni, however, wore an extravagant dress complete with parasol. Of all the women aboard _Our Fair Lady_ , Leni was the only one who dressed as a woman. They took several turns before Lincoln could finally see the ship. It looked much larger in daylight; he couldn't believe he'd been brave enough to suggest they charge it! Within minutes, they stood before the ramp leading to its deck.

"Ah, nice to see you again, miss." a Latino man in a poor sailor's clothes said.

"That's _Captain_ to you." Lori snapped, startling the man, "I'm looking for Bobby."

"Well, _Captain_ Bobby is in his cabin, sleeping." the sailor said.

"Wake him," Lori said, "we need to talk."

"The Captain's been up for four days straight!" the sailor exclaimed, "He deserves his rest."

"I have an offer that can't wait." Lori said simply.

As the two argued back and forth, Lori shouting at the man to step aside and he adamantly refusing, Lincoln watched the gulls flying. Suddenly, a sharp pain hit him in the buttocks and he had to bite his hand to stop a stream of curses from erupting. He looked around for the source of the pain, seeing a Hispanic youth in coat and breeches grinning at him. Lincoln had become good at distinguishing boyish girls from girlish boys, and this was definitely a girl.

"Uh, Captain?" Lincoln tapped his superior on the shoulder, flinching as she rounded on him.

"What, boy?" she snapped.

"Permission to explore the port?" the cabin boy chuckled nervously.

Lori opened her mouth to tear her cabin boy down when her eye caught the young Latina smiling at Lincoln. Rolling her eyes, Lori said, "Fine, but stay within earshot; I may need you to run orders back to the ship."

"Huh?" Lincoln looked back at the Latina grinning mischievously at him, "Oh no, it's not like that-"

"You're playing with fire, stringing so many lasses along at once." Lori shook her head, "Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I…" the cabin boy started and stopped, "I'll be back."

Lincoln approached the Latina. Her coat was yellow, like Luan's, but with red trim – a Spaniard's coat, Lincoln thought. The breeches were finely-woven black, inlaid with thread-of-gold in floral patterns. A simple bandana adorned her head, a vibrant purple quite at odds with the Spanish frock. Lincoln couldn't help but feel pulled towards the girl.

"Do you speak English?" he asked her.

"Few in this port who don't speak at least a little," the Latina said, fluently.

"Why did you hit me?" Lincoln asked, rubbing at the sore spot.

"Because your face looked funny," the girl grinned, challengingly.

Lincoln scowled, "That's not very nice."

"Neither's your face," the girl laughed.

"W-well, _your_ face looks funny." Lincoln said.

"Nice comeback, really original," the girl said, just as cheeky as ever, "I see you've a brain to match such a face."

"You're behaving like a real…" Lincoln started, then calmed himself, "What do I care?"

As he started to walk away he heard the girl snort and mutter "Coward."

"What did you call me?" Lincoln asked, turning around. Having seen the rise she got, the girl grinned wider.

"I called you a coward," she laughed again, "I bet you've never been in a fight."

"It takes a braver man to avoid a fight, you little tart." Lynn's voice came from behind them.

Lincoln and the Latina turned to see a nervous Clyde standing with an angered Lynn, Luan and Lucy, of all people. They weren't angry per se, but their expressions conveyed displeasure.

"Ooo, jealous?" the girl wiggled her fingers in mock menace, "These your sisters come to rescue you?"

"Aye, we are something like a family." Lynn grunted.

"Why are you laughing, anyway?" Luan sneered, "The only joke I see around here is _you_."

The Latina blinked at the barb, then growled.

"I wasn't aware you had your own personal harem," she muttered, darkly.

"They aren't my harem!" Lincoln was aghast, "I'd never… do _that_ with them!"

"Oh, bad wording." Clyde muttered.

"Oh please!" Lynn snapped, more at the cabin boy than the Latina, "This little sod _wishes_ he could bed me!"

"I think he'd rather stuff his nethers in a pot of hot tar." Lucy said, monotone as ever.

"What, like you?" Luan smirked, "The man deserves someone a little more mature than you two."

"Like you?" Lynn asked, "Now _that's_ funny!"

"I-I never said _me_!" Luan blushed.

As the three prattled barbs at one another, the Latina eyed Lincoln as if for the first time. Lincoln didn't look like much, cringing away from his shipmates in embarrassment and sweating in the Latin American sun. Still, she could see why they would fight over him; he wasn't entirely unpleasant. She nudged him.

"What's your name, anyway?" she asked.

"Lincoln," he said after a moment.

"Odd choice for a Frenchman," the girl shrugged, "mine's Ronnie Anne."

"Odd choice for a Spaniard." Lincoln cracked a grin and was surprised when the girl smiled back.

"So," Ronnie Anne asked, "none of them are your lovers?"

"Not that I recall…" Lincoln sighed, "They sure act like it, though."

"Want to split?" Ronnie Anne asked.

"I can't; I have to stay within earshot of my Captain." Lincoln explained, "I'm the cabin boy of _Our Fair Lady_."

"Funny," Ronnie Anne chuckled, "I'm cabin girl of the _Fair Maiden_."

"Which ship is that?" Lincoln asked. Ronnie Anne pointed at the ship-of-the-line before them. "Bobby's ship?"

" _Captain_ Bobby." Ronnie Anne corrected, dramatically, "He named it after some chick who helped rescue him. He's obsessed with her."

"Yeah, she's pretty crazy about him, too." Lincoln chuckled; it wasn't hard to figure out who Bobby named the ship after.

"I can't stand all that lovey-dovey gush." Ronnie Anne shook her head.

"Me either!" Lincoln said, "We get it, you're in love!"

The teens shared a laugh. Lincoln didn't notice how deep her eyes were until now. He turned to hide a blush; he really was playing with fire.

"Well, I should go," he said, "my captain's boarding the ship."

"I'll go with you." Ronnie Anne sighed, exasperated, "Bobby will probably want me to run errands."

"You call your captain with no title?" Lincoln asked.

"Why would I?" the Latina seemed surprised, "Now hurry up."

Lincoln followed Ronnie Anne towards the ship, sparing a look at the girls he'd left behind. All three were glaring daggers at his back, Clyde mimicking a man hanging himself – a fitting symbol for what Lincoln would face when he returned to _Our Fair Lady_. Sighing, he returned his attention to following the Latina aboard the ship she served. Already the _Fair Maiden_ was flying the black flag of piracy, a screaming skull over crossed muskets emblazoned in white. It was far more intimidating than Lori's choice of a heart with a knife through it. Finally, they caught up with their captains.

"Ah, Lori!" Bobby said, stifling a yawn, "If I had known you were coming, I'd have dressed nicer!"

"I'm here to talk business, Bobby." Lori replied.

"A shame; pleasure is far more enjoyable." Bobby chuckled.

"Cool it down, Romeo," Lori giggled – actually _giggled_! "I need your ship in my fleet."

"That's pretty forward." Bobby raised his eyebrows, grabbing an apple from a nearby bowl, "No offense, _mi amore_ , but why would I submit myself your command when I have the better ship?"

"I have three years of pirating experience and a crew of hardened sailors." Lori sniffed, "Plus I beat your ship once; think I can't do it again?"

"Fair point." Bobby conceded, "Still, I don't see how I benefit from this arrangement – other than being in your company."

"Well, besides all the gold we'll be earning from our hauls," Lori grinned playfully, approaching Bobby. She whispered the rest in his ear so no one else can hear. Whatever she said made Bobby drop his apple, face flushed and eyes widening considerably. "And of course, that's just for starters."

"I-I hope you don't make those sorts of promises to any captain you come across." Bobby stammered, trying and failing to regain face. Ronnie Anne and Lincoln rolled their eyes.

"Only you," Lori said, softly, " _mi amore_."

"When do we sail?" Bobby asked, absolutely smitten.

"Captain!" one of his officers exclaimed.

"Shush, Diez, the _Admiral_ is talking." Bobby said.

"Admiral Lori," the newly-promoted pirate rubbed her chin, "has a nice ring to it. How rested are your men?"

"We just pulled into port today." Bobby confessed, "I promised them all a week's shore leave, though half will likely desert."

"Then a week from now we'll sail." Lori said, "Don't worry about crewmates; we have plenty to spare."

"Women cannot serve aboard our ship!" Diez said, aghast, "They'll cause derision and bad luck."

"Isn't there something in the Pirate Code about women?" Bobby asked.

"Depends on which Code you go by," Lori explained, "and we don't sail under that one. Tell your men to keep their minds on the task and to keep away from my girls, or I'll keelhaul them by their nads."

Bobby flinched at the proposed punishment.

"Aye-aye, Admiral." he saluted, "Ronnie Anne, could you be a dear and run the orders?"

"Only if I have to." the Latina sighed dramatically, "See you later, Lame-o."

"It's Lincoln, actually…" the other teen muttered. Here he was thinking the girl might be _nice_ , too.

"Lincoln, don't lout about." Lori said, "Go and tell Luna about the newest addition to our fleet – _the Fair Maiden_."

"Aye-aye, Captain." Lincoln saluted, running out of the ship.

Tactfully, he dodged the brooding party of Lynn, Luan and Lucy; best not to run that gauntlet yet. Between them and Ronnie Anne, Lincoln was convinced he'd never figure women out. Two weeks serving with a crew of them certainly hadn't improved his understanding.

"God above, will I ever understand them?" he muttered.

 **Sorry for another weird ending.**


	8. Chapter 8

**Figured I'd add a chapter where Luna is more prominent. Trying to get all the main characters some screen time. Also, sorry for the long break. I've been indisposed. As much as I'd like to throw Luna into the mix, I'm not going to. I'll put more Lucy in the next chapter.**

It had been a crazy week in port. All the sugar they had captured from the Spaniards had finally been sold and Lincoln had received his first payment as a cabin boy – a startling two pesetas. Lynn grumbled something about only being paid _one_ peseta as a cabin girl, but brightened considerably when she received her portion of plunder. Everyone had received impressive payment, far more than their equivalents in the various legal navies; in fact, they were paid better than the average pirate, too.

"Not that I mind, Captain," Lincoln began when he and Lori were alone, "but why do you pay us so much? Why not take a bigger share like all the others?"

Lori measured the cabin boy, as she always seemed to do, before answering, "What use have I for hoarding gold? Frankly, such avarice is the folly of _all_ pirates. Money is of little concern to me, since the seas are my home. I provide for the crew like a mother would her family; that is reward enough."

Lincoln nodded slowly at the information, awed that such a selfless person could exist. Still, it made a sad sort of sense. What could a pirate hope to achieve with their pay other than drinking and gambling? As outlaws, they had no home to return to, no family to care for. Aboard a ship there wasn't much room for possessions; it was only practical that Lori – who neither drank nor gambled – would spread her share out amongst the crew.

For most of the week Lincoln had been busy with work, helping Luan maintain the ship, Luna manage their stores, or Clyde prepare food for the crew. In his precious free time, Lynn would drag him off for tennis matches – to avoid gambling, she claimed. When he managed to avoid the exhausting gunnery officer, Lucy managed to find him and the two would enjoy reading peacefully before someone (usually Lynn) interrupted them.

The "vacation" ashore did not last, however, and soon Bobby's crew was rested and replenished. Lori had been particularly generous, giving them a portion of the sugar profits, which was only fair. In the days leading up to the voyage, Lori had Lincoln running orders all around port, sometimes with Lynn or Luna's assistance, to drag drunken crewwomen out of their dives and return them to the ship for duty. Lincoln had never liked drunks, but there was something obscene about drunken women; he'd always pictured women as motherly and caring, not cynical drunks loitering in shoddy taverns.

"That should be the last of them, right?" Lincoln sighed as he finished hauling a drunk to her feet. She staggered away pathetically, tripping several times.

"All but the Captain." Luna confirmed, "Of course, we all know where she is."

"Bobby." Lynn and Lincoln said in tandem.

"Well, nothing for it," Luna shook her head, "time to return to _Our Fair Lady_. Linc, you'll be with me; we're counting the stores before we shove off."

"Haven't we already done that?" Lincoln asked. Counting the stores was the worst of his chores, but one of the most important.

"We have, but now we have drunks who've been louting about in port for a week." Luna said, "You'd be surprised how tempting stealing and selling our goods seems when you're wasted."

"Bloody thieves." Lynn shook her head, "Never satisfied with just robbing the British, French and Spanish, they gotta rob from us, too."

"Who would've suspected piracy bred kleptomania?" Lincoln asked sarcastically.

"Very funny, Linc." Luna grinned, "But let's get going; we cast off soon."

The three walked back towards the ship and Lynn left them to their work; she had to tend to the gunnery crews and their pieces.

"Funny," Luna noted a couple women bundled in heavy frocks and scarves, despite the Caribbean heat, "we seem to have a few extra crewmates. Ah well, that happens from time to time."

Luna led Lincoln down into the hold. They spent what felt like hours counting crates, barrels, and cannonballs, but was more likely a single hour. The magazine was protected by moist thatch over the entrance. Lincoln took note of the numerous barrels of highly-combustible gunpowder in the belly of the ship. Cannonballs were nearby, stored in racks and crates and in great quantity. Most were balls of iron, but some were chained semi-spheres designed to tatter sails and shatter masts. Crates of shattered chain and scrap iron constituted their store of shot.

"Looks good." Luna nodded in approval finally, "Glad to see none of our privateers decided to steal from us, this time."

"Does theft occur often?" Lincoln asked.

"Only when they get a little too drunk," the quartermaster explained, "the Cap's punishments are usually severe enough that only the craziest would try and pilfer us."

Lincoln dreaded to think what punishments their Captain could dream up.

"What do we do now?" Lincoln asked, eying the ordnance; it was unnerving to think of how much explosives they were sitting on.

"Actually, I was hoping you and I could talk." Luna shrugged. She removed her turban, running a sooty hand through her short, brown locks.

"What did you want to talk about?" Lincoln said as she refastened her turban.

"Where exactly do you stand with all those lasses you got wrapped around your finger?" the Quartermaster grinned.

"I-I don't have anyone wrapped around my finger!" Lincoln stammered, "Lynn and I are just… friends. She isn't interested."

"You're either a good liar," Luna shook her head slowly, "or you don't know how to read women. I suppose next you'll say you're just friends with that little Latina you were flirting with, eh?"

"I wouldn't even go _that_ far." Lincoln snorted, "All she does is pick on me – and we were _not_ flirting."

"Lucy?" Luna smirked.

"W-well, she is pretty, and we have a lot in common…" Lincoln blushed until he saw Luna frown, "We're just good friends."

"And Luan?" Luna asked. Oddly, her gaze hardened as she eyed Lincoln closely.

"The bosun?" the cabin boy blinked, "She's not interested in me. I suppose next you'll ask me if I have the Captain around my finger."

"No, I can tell who _she's_ smitten with." Luna sighed, "Do you seriously believe none of the girls I've listed are interested in you? The fact you mentioned Lynn only proves you acknowledge it."

"I can't see why any of them _would_ be interested in me," Lincoln shrugged, "I'm a nobody from a backwoods French colony who begged to come aboard. All I have going for me is, well, I haven't died yet."

"Don't undersell yourself, kid." Luna said, "You're one in a million. Lynn, Lucy, Luan… They won't shut up about you, about your dreams for a better world. I still remember your grand speech at the officer's meeting."

"I wouldn't call that a grand speech." Lincoln chuckled, abashed.

"Your ideas are ahead of their time, Linc." Luna went on, "You're a hell of a man; I'm proud to call you shipmate."

"Thanks Luna." Lincoln smiled, warmly, "Out of curiosity, why are you interested in my, er… love life?"

Luna snorted, rolling a cannonball along an empty rack.

"Luan and I are close," she explained, "about as close as Lucy and Lynn."

"Lucy and Lynn?" Lincoln scoffed, "They want to kill each other, half the time."

"Aye, and you'll rarely meet closer friends." Luna said, "Luan and I go back years before the Cap started this whole endeavor. She worked with her father, a Dutch cargo trader, that delivered to our port often. Over the years, we grew as close as sisters. I couldn't wait for her to stop by, and she would. Her pa was very friendly, too, letting his merchant's daughter hang out with a street tough like me."

"Why did she give that up for piracy?" Lincoln asked, "To sail the sea _and_ enjoy a life of luxury? Why would she trade that to be a boatswain?"

Luna simply stared at him for a moment, great sorrow touching her eyes, before turning away.

"You've never found it funny she makes everything a joke?" she asked.

"I thought it was just a quirk."

"Every woman aboard this ship has a story, Linc." Luna said, quietly, "None of them are pleasant. I can't tell you hers, though; she'll tell you when she wants to."

"What's your story?" Lincoln asked, "If you don't mind my asking."

"Same as Lynn's, pretty much." Luna shrugged, "Just a couple of American street toughs surviving in the streets. Cap, back when she was a lady, would find time to spend with a few of us."

"Why were you and Lynn street toughs?" Lincoln asked, quietly.

"Sob story as old as time, sadly." Luna grunted, "Mothers were ladies of the night, see? Never knew our fathers; barely knew our mothers. I was destined to follow the same path. Fortunately, the Captain took charge when she did, or else I'd be bloody well servicing the wealthier lot of New England by now."

"I'm sorry," Lincoln frowned, "No woman should ever be forced to sell themselves to live."

"You really are different." Luna said, softly, "Never change, Linc. I think we've talked enough; time to get back topside."

The two of them exited the magazine, passing Lynn on the gundeck as they headed upwards. The Gunnery Officer was shouting expletives that made Lincoln's ears burn, apparently disappointed in the shoddy state of the guns – and the fact half her gun crews were drunk. Finally, they arrived on deck, conveniently right before Captain Lori's arrival. She looked oddly pleased, smiling fondly for once. Lincoln repressed a cringe at the idea of what she might have been up to. Luan was already present, alongside Leni.

"Everything looks shipshape, as always." Lori nodded, running a hand along the deck railing, clearly pleased when her hand came away clean, "Excellent work, to all of you."

"Awaiting your command, Captain." Luna saluted.

"Prepare to cast off," Lori ordered, "I expect all my officers present in my cabin within the hour for a meeting."

The deck bustled with activity as Lincoln went to fetch Lynn and Lucy; Lisa was already in the Captain's cabin.

"Hey, Lynn, Captain's calling an officer meeting," he said, "she wants you topside."

"Aye-aye, Linc." Lynn said, "I've run out of curses to throw at these louts, anyway."

Lincoln searched for Lucy and found her in one of the darker storerooms.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I come down here to think," the Watch Officer explained, "it helps me to compose my poetry."

"Ah." Lincoln nodded, "Captain's holding a meeting and needs you in her cabin."

"Then let's walk there together." she smiled.

Lincoln agreed, but as they walked Luna's warning gnawed at the back of his mind. Perhaps he was showing too much of an interest in too many girls. He would have to choose one, or simply abstain from all of them. Lucy was pretty – he had noted as much. Yet, oddly, he could not choose her. At least, not above the others. It suddenly struck him that, to some extent, he _was_ in love with each of them.

"I'm a bloody fool." he sighed.

"What?" Lucy asked.

"Nothing," Lincoln said, "just talking to myself."

They arrived in the Captain's cabin at the same time, Lincoln surprised that Lucy had snuck her arm around his without him noticing. Lynn shot them a venomous glare while Lori only shook her head in irritation; the last thing the Captain liked was rivalry among her officers. Luan only looked hurt, which cut him deeply, much to his surprise.

"Why did you gather us all, Cap?" Lynn asked, deciding not to make a spectacle over a lover's spat.

"To tell us where we're going, obviously." Lucy said in a monotone that stated the obvious.

"Very astute, Lucy, if a bit rude." Lori added the last part under her breath, "We're setting sail for the Barbary Coast."

"Not much out that way except slavers," Luna grimaced, "well, and I suppose ivory."

"Precisely on both counts." Lori nodded, "Bobby and Lincoln appear to share a mind."

Her officers exchanged questioning looks at one another before eying Lincoln. What did he have to do with a voyage to Africa?

"I can see how that statement might have been confusing," Lori admitted, "what I mean is Bobby shares Lincoln's vision for a world free of slaves."

Apparently, Clyde had talked about their discussion and Lincoln's so-called pipe dream.

"Bobby's an abolitionist?" Lincoln asked, "Er, Captain Bobby, I mean."

"That he is." Lori smiled, clearly taken with the idea, "Together, with my experience and our new fleet, we can actually make a difference."

"How?" Luan asked.

"Barbary Pirates are pirates, too." Lori explained, "We simply have to appeal to their love of freedom; if that fails, their love of plunder."

"And if bribing them doesn't work?" Lynn asked, which it very likely wouldn't.

"Then we teach them the error of their ways." Lori said, coldly.

"We cannot end the Barbary Slave Trade with a frigate and a ship-of-the-line," Lisa pointed out, "even if we caught every convoy by surprise."

"We won't have to." Lori sighed, "Make no mistake, I have no illusions that we can singlehandedly end the plight of slavery, but we _can_ free a few hundred – maybe a few thousand – slaves before returning to the West Indies."

"It's, like, a really bold plan." Leni noted with a frown.

"Too bold." a new voice sounded out. All the officers turned to face the newcomer that had barged into their meeting. Lincoln did a double-take at the fact the intruder was a young, well-shaven British man. Too late he realized he, and two others behind him, were the tightly-bundled newcomers Luna had noticed earlier. "The Harvester sends his regards."

The man, as well as his comrades, produced pistols from their frocks, firing into the cramped cabin. Thinking quickly, the officers ducked beneath the thick oak table bolted to the deck. The smoothbore shots dug into the wood, smoke obscuring the small room. Lynn ran out from the table and tackled one of the men through the doorway where crewwomen were gathering to provide aid. The two remaining intruders produced cudgels and set about trying to bludgeon the officers to death. One went down from Luna's hatchet digging into his collarbone.

The other charged at the Captain, mounting the table and flinging himself at her. Before Lincoln even realized it, the pistol Clyde had given him was cocked in his hand. Everything froze as he lifted the flintlock. Blood spraying from axe-wound in one of the assailant's neck, Lynn's girlish roars as she beat another senseless, and the gathered officers grasping at their holstered and sheathed weapons all played in slow motion for Lincoln. The barrel of his pistol wavered, the wood-and-iron construct heavier than he had imagined. Any moment that cudgel was going to cave-in Lori's skull.

Lincoln pulled the trigger and felt his hand jutter with the force of the blast. The hardpacked ball of lead spun through the air before contacting the assailant. It had been a miracle shot – Lincoln certainly had no experience in marksmanship. The man was pitched over the table, surprise painting his face as surely as the spray of crimson erupting from his chest. Lori flinched back as blood sprayed her in the eyes.

Then, just as quickly as it had started, it was over. The two assailants inside were dead, their blood all over the table and floor; Lynn dragged the third in, his face a bruised and bloodied mess. Lincoln's hands shook. He tried to steady them but only succeeded in dropping the smoking pistol. Lori's eyes fell on him; in fact, everyone's eyes fell on him. They all looked concerned.

"Linc, you okay?" Lynn asked, reaching out to him with her bloodied hand before thinking better of it.

"Yeah," the cabin boy lied, "just fine."

"If you need someone to talk about-" Lucy began, but Lincoln interrupted her, as much to distract himself as the others.

"Who's the Harvester?" he asked.

"A British naval officer," Lori said, still measuring her cabin boy, "a damn good one. He captains the _Royal Hound_ , a man-o-war. He's a pirate hunter, which is ironic considering how many crimes he commits in the name of the Crown."

"He's the vilest man we've ever faced," Luna explained, "he has it in for us, especially the Captain."

"Do you know him personally, or something?" Lincoln asked.

"He was my fiancé's first mate," Lori said, "and his best man."

"Oh." Lincoln said. The shock of that fact was almost enough to stop the shaking. Almost.

"Change of plans, ladies – and lad." Lori wiped blood from her face, "We're not going to the Barbary Coast yet. We have a troublesome Brit to deal with."

As the other officers discussed their plans to hunt their hunter, Lincoln fell silent and distanced himself from them. The bodies were still in the cabin, and one looked up at him with lifeless, accusing eyes. He shivered at the sight. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the shaking.


	9. Chapter 9

**This is going to be a short chapter. Like, really short. It's mostly just a Lincoln/Lucy moment.**

Blood.

Not a patch of skin showed beneath the red sheen coating his palms. Lincoln's breathing was ragged, his fingers trembling. Crimson droplets rolled into the cups of his palms, a pool of vitae that filled his nose with a coppery scent. Lincoln looked down at the man he had just murdered. The man was young – nearly as young as Lincoln himself – and wore the splendid crimson coat of the Royal Navy. A soldier serving his country. A patriot. A brave, loyal man.

Barely a man.

Lincoln reached behind him for something to steady his wobbling knees. His hands brushed along something unseen. Turning, he nearly fell over in shock. A bloody handprint now smudged his father's vestments. A look of hurt and disapproval spread across his face as silent tears shed from his eyes. He could hear his mother weeping behind him, the sound ripping his heart to shreds.

" _Pourquoi_?" his father asked.

"Father, I…" Lincoln responded in English before stopping himself. He looked down at his hands and muttered, "I've lost my way."

"Or maybe you've found it."

Lincoln turned to the source of the eerily-familiar voice and came face to face with his mirror image. Lincoln backed away, not at all liking the dark glint in his doppelganger's eyes.

"What is this?" he asked.

"An awakening, of sorts," the clone sighed, "you've blood on your hands, Lincoln. You killed without hesitation."

"I… I didn't want to!" Lincoln wanted to throw up.

"No?" the clone said, coyly, "You were awfully fast on the trigger."

"The Captain was in danger!" Lincoln said.

"From a single assailant with a cudgel?" the doppelganger sneered, "You were dying to use the pistol Clyde gave you; don't deny it!"

"Not, not like this." Lincoln fell to his knees, "God, help me!"

The clone's expression softened and he kneeled beside Lincoln, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. Then, in a disturbingly friendly voice, "There is no God. Not for a killer like you."

Lincoln flung himself from his hammock, screaming into the night. Immediately, a dozen neighboring girls woke and reached for pistols and sabers, searching everywhere for the source of Lincoln's terror. Half-asleep, they simply stared at the cabin boy when they found no threat. Lucy appeared quickly, already awake for watch duty with a half-dressed Lynn and groggy Luan not far behind. Lily, the only infant aboard, woke up crying.

"Lincoln!" Lucy gently shook the white-haired teen awake, "It was a nightmare! Calm down, you are safe here."

"I'm not safe anywhere!" Lincoln sobbed into Lucy's chest, " _Notre P_ _è_ _re, qui es aux cieux, qui ton nom soit_ …"

"What's he mumbling on about?" Lynn stifled a yawn, concern etched on her face.

"It's the Lord's Prayer," Lucy flinched back, not entirely pleased with hearing it, "for some reason, it would appear young Lincoln fears for his soul."

"I know a cobbler if he needs a new one." Luan joked, feebly, "Lincoln, are you all right?"

"Alright, the rest of you louts, back to your hammocks!" Lynn snapped, "Nothing to see here! Ingrates."

"Please, calm yourself." Lucy caressed tears from Lincoln's cheeks.

"S-sorry." Lincoln sniffled, regathering his wits, "I must look a sight."

"You're always a sight, Linc." Luan offered with a smile, "Just usually a far handsomer one."

"Thanks." Lincoln tried to smile, "If, uh, if you girls don't mind, I'd like to get back to sleep."

"Sure thing, Linc." Lynn smiled, gingerly, "If you ever need to talk, you know where to find me."

"That goes double for me." Luan offered, ignoring the glare from Lynn.

Yawning, the Gunnery Officer and Boatswain made their way back to their racks, but Lucy remained. She eyed Lincoln through black bangs, frowning as Lincoln wiped stray tears from his eyes. Finally, he noticed she was still there.

"Yes?" he asked, not wanting to really be alone.

"It must have been a really bad one." Lucy noted.

"Horrifying." Lincoln said.

"We are always here if you need us," Lucy said, "any of us."

"Why, though?" the cabin boy asked, "You've only known me a few weeks."

"When we took to the seas, each of us in their own turn, we vowed never to take a man in, never to trust men again." Lucy explained in monotone, "Obviously, Clyde was an exception – the Captain couldn't help but feel sympathy for the son of a slave, given her own background. None of us felt in control of our lives before we became pirates."

"Why take me, then?" Lincoln asked, "I was born to a life of privilege, far from the sea, and a man of conservative Catholic upbringing. Why take in someone who could threaten your way of life?"

"Because you're different, Linc." Lucy smiled, a small tug of her lips, "None of us ever dreamed a man like you could exist – one who cares about others, who views every human as a person, regardless of race or gender."

"We're all equal in the eyes of the Lord, my parents would say." Lincoln managed a pitiful grin. He wondered if that extended to him now that he had broken one of the most fundamental of Commandments.

Lucy eyed him a moment before speaking.

"You worry about your soul because you've killed a man." It wasn't a question.

"You're Catholic, surely you must understand." Lincoln pled.

"I'm not Catholic." Lucy said, "I don't believe in God."

Lincoln blinked, not sure how to respond. Not believing in God? Was that even possible?

"Who do you pray to?" Lincoln asked, "I mean, how… what… How does that work?"

"I pray to no one," the Watch Officer explained, "for there is no one to pray to."

"What happened to make you lose your faith?" the cabin boy asked, quietly. It was in his teaching that all good Frenchmen and -women were fervent Catholics. Then again, being raised by a priest may have skewed his thinking, somewhat.

"My father might not have been a priest, like yours," Lucy shrugged, "but he was a devout Catholic. Pious, our priest called him. He was also a drunk, a gambler, and an adulterer. One day I questioned if God was all-powerful, why did he not make the world a better place. My father beat me and told me it was because he was testing us. Later I asked if God were all-loving, why did he test us so cruelly. My father beat me again and said his love was terrible."

Lincoln had never had the mind to ask those questions, but now they sent him wondering. The implications were graver than if God were cruel, so he quit thinking about it.

"Terrible love." Lucy snorted, "Have you ever seen such a thing?"

"When a parent beats their children to teach them the error of their ways." Lincoln winced as the words left his mouth.

"What is an error of one's ways, Lincoln?" Lucy demanded.

"I don't know." Lincoln confessed, "I personally don't see why one would ever need to hit a child. Especially not for asking questions about the world."

"Would you really never strike a child?" Lucy gave that meager smile again.

"Honestly, I don't think I could."

"No…" Lucy realized Lincoln was telling the truth, "I don't think you could." After a moment of quiet contemplation, she added, "If there is a God, you've nothing to fear. Your soul is pure."

"I killed that man without hesitation," Lincoln muttered, fresh tears springing to his eyes, "No man of God would do such a thing."

"You're overlooking one fact, though," Lucy pointed out, "you did it to save the Captain. You saved someone without thinking, Lincoln. I'm sure if you were closer, you would have thrown yourself between them without thought, but you weren't close – your only choice was to shoot."

"The Captain could have handled her own." Lincoln made the same argument as his nightmarish doppelganger.

"I saw how close they were," Lucy said, "too close for the Captain to unsheathe her sword; too fast for her to react. You did the right thing, Linc. Don't punish yourself for it."

With that, the Watch Officer left him with a gentle kiss on the cheek. The kiss was so surprising that Lincoln's anxiety evaporated and his cheeks flushed red. Again, that half-smile tugged at Lucy's lips before she disappeared into the shadows of the ship. Luckily, Lynn and Luan weren't around to see it. Was it romantic, or just meant to calm him?

Whatever the intention, Lincoln found himself lulling back to sleep, his fears dissolving like smoke before daylight. Finally, mercifully, he fell into a dreamless sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm without internet when I'm writing these, so most likely it'll be a large bundle.**

"The Harvester has been prowling the Caribbean these past few weeks, if our 'friend' Lynn spared is to be trusted." Lori said, hovering over a map, "They set sail from Port Royal, so Lisa, where is his plan?"

"It is quite obvious that this 'Harvester' has been hunting us for years," Lisa noted in a lisping, Italian accent, "Very likely, he has come to the realization that his man-o-war simply can't keep pace with our frigate, and every smaller ship he sends after us is quickly dispatched. Now he is sending agents into havens to seek us out and assassinate you. Normally, I'd prescribe waiting him out – the hunter will eventually find the prey, so to speak – but it will no longer be that simple, especially if he knows we've a ship-of-the-line supporting us. We can expect more underhanded assassinations."

"That dirty rat!" Lynn growled, "No honor!"

"It is a valid tactic," Lucy nodded slowly, "He cannot strike at us with force, so the subtler approach makes sense."

"Where is his most likely destination?" Lori asked her navigator.

"Sailing from Port Royal to Tortuga to drop of the assassins," Lisa scribbled calculations along the map, "the most probable location would be somewhere within easy reporting distance of Tortuga, unless he is dispatching more assassins at other havens, in which case he could be anywhere, though I find that highly unlikely."

"You don't think he's left assassins at all the havens?" Leni asked, a surprisingly astute question.

"Not at all." Lisa shook her head, "Assassination is a fine art; to simply throw them at every haven and have them wait for the _chance_ we pull into port would be a waste of trained manpower. Very likely, the Harvester had adequate forewarning of our destination – a network of spies tracking our movements."

"Clever Brits." Luna sneered, "So we're looking for a man-o-war sailing near Tortuga?"

"A small fleet with a man-o-war amongst its number, actually." Lisa corrected, "Still a proverbial needle in a haystack, sadly."

"I'm confused with all this talk of harvesting hay and needles." Leni rubbed her temples, "What does any of it have to do with sailing?"

"It's just an expression, Leni." Lynn sighed, "It means the ocean's bloody huge, and finding even a small fleet is a challenge, even when they have to be near us."

"Not impossible, though…" Lincoln noted, "Someone must have seen a fleet of ships, even if they weren't flying British colors. Nobody could ignore that many warships."

"Bright lad." Lori grinned, "Lucy! Start sending crewwomen to inquire about mysterious fleets lurking these waters."

"Aye-aye, Captain." Lucy saluted, rising from the table.

"Luna, see to our stores of munitions." Lori ordered, "Luan, standby for repairs."

Both officers saluted and exited.

"Lynn, I've got a special assignment for you, and I don't want any sass," the Captain glowered, "You're to go to Bobby's ship and oversee the gunnery crews' training and command."

"What?!" Lynn was shocked, "B-but, I have a system of command here! The bloody louts will fall apart without me! Who's taking my job?"

"I'm giving Lincoln here a temporary promotion to Acting Gunnery Officer." Lori explained.

"What?!" this time both Lynn and Lincoln asked.

"Lincoln's spent more time with you than any other officer, save Clyde." Lori explained, "He's a bright lad, and he knows your system. I've overheard you teaching it to him."

That was true, though Lincoln wouldn't call screaming at and threatening the gun crews a 'system'. It wasn't a complex job, provided one understood the order in which to clean and load guns, as well as how to take initiative if orders couldn't be received. Lincoln knew all about when to use shot and when to use ball. It was easy: all he had to do was relay orders from the Captain to the crews in a commanding roar.

So why was the prospect of command so daunting?

"I don't think I'm ready." Lincoln said, "I'm a man, a boy really; how will any of them respect me?"

"Not a woman aboard this vessel wouldn't put their life down for you, Linc." Lynn said, "If I had to give command of my gunners to anyone, it would be you."

"You have no say in the matter, Lincoln." Lori sighed, "You can't stay a cabin boy forever, and frankly you're too smart to be running orders. Consider this as a trial by fire."

"But you already have a full roster of officers." Lincoln noted, "When Lynn returns, what job would I possibly fill?"

"I don't plan on sinking and killing every ship and man, boy!" Lori laughed, "We're taking prizes and recruits. I want the Harvester's flagship for my own, especially after all these years the bastard's been hunting us. Leni will take over _Our Fair Lady_ , and we'll have no shortage of officer positions. Even more if we get more ships."

"You might even get your own." Lynn whispered, nudging Lincoln in the ribs.

"Then I hope I don't disappoint." Lincoln gave a hopeful smile. A ship of his own? How long would that have taken if he served in the French Navy?

"I doubt you will." Lori smiled, "Now see your duties, Acting Gunnery Officer."

Lincoln saluted with Lynn and left. Obviously, Lynn had a few last-minute snippets of advice on how to properly employ gunnery – enough to fill a book, really – and a farewell speech for her crews, as if she'd never see them again. With a sudden sickness, Lincoln realized how likely it was she might not. Battles resulted in casualties; it was a sad fact.

"Remember, if a crew isn't loading their guns fast enough, they're just being lazy." Lynn explained, "Those Brits can fire cannonade twice as fast as Spaniards or French, so we need to be just as fast or we'll be slaughtered. We'll also be outmanned and outgunned in most engagements, but keep a cool head and follow the Captain's orders. It's really a simple job."

"Provided I don't panic." Lincoln laughed nervously.

"You'll be great, Linc." Lynn said, "The girls already respect you. I mean, they should; I talk enough about you." Lynn blushed at the words and turned to leave.

"Hey, Lynn," Lincoln grabbed her hand, making her face heat up more, "be safe. Please."

Lynn grinned and pecked Lincoln on the lips.

"Frenchmen do have soft lips," she said, grin growing wider, "When I get back, we'll have to try one of those 'French' kisses."

Now it was Lincoln's turn to blush vividly.

"Off to go babysit Bobby's louts." Lynn sighed, strutting away.

After she disappeared topside, Lincoln noticed all the crewwomen's eyes on him. They were a sullen lot, yet oddly jaded. Not a single smile and every hard eye pointed his way. Feeling the need to say something – anything – he smiled meekly.

"If you perform half as well under me as you do with Lynn, I'm confident we'll beat the Harvester back to England." Lincoln said, feebly.

Much to his surprise, the hard-faced women all cracked smiles, some laughing, some going as far as to cheer for him. Curious folk, women. Lincoln was sure he'd never fully understand them. Lincoln left them to enjoy the rest of their free time seeing their cannons in top-order. As he headed topside he was stopped when someone called out to him.

"Lincoln!" Luan's voice called out.

Lincoln turned to see her approaching with a bundle, Luna close on her heels, both grinning wide.

"Congratulations on your promotion!" the Quartermaster chuckled.

"I had Luna find a saber proper for our newest officer." Luan said, hoisting the bundle.

"That's really not necessary," Lincoln began, "it's a temporary station. How'd you two find out?"

"Word travels fast on a frigate." Luna said, "You'll take the saber, and you'll bloody like it."

"Even a temporary gunnery officer needs one to issue commands," Luan said as if it were obvious, her grin betraying the joke, "and I had this one requisitioned special, just for you."

Before Lincoln could protest, Luan removed the sheathed blade from its bundle. Lincoln gawked at it. Fine black leather and bright brass made up the sheath, while brass-plated steel and rayskin made the handle and guard. Pulling the saber free, Lincoln found it heavier than expected and a little big for his hand, but perfectly weighted. The blade was polished steel, sweeping into a gentle curve and engraved with something in a language he wasn't familiar with. A curious crest adorned the pommel: a jester's mask.

"What language is this?" he asked, tracing a finger along the foreign words.

"Dutch." Luan said, "It is the motto of an old house, meaning 'To Have the Last Laugh'. A minor house, really, not worth mentioning."

"A merchant's house?" Lincoln asked, eying Luan for a moment, "Luan, I can't accept this. It's so… valuable."

"I want you to have it." the boatswain said with a sad smile, "Nothing would make me happier than to see you carry that blade."

Lincoln blinked at her, taken aback. Then he smiled, warmly.

"If that's the case, then I'll carry it to my grave." Lincoln said, belting the sword around himself. It was heavy, and a bit awkward to walk with, but he found that he'd do anything for her. He was rewarded with Luan brightening considerably, her smile positively beaming. It warmed his heart.

"You won't regret it, Linc!" she said, "That sword has protected five generations of merchants from the likes of us!"

Without another word, Luan turned to leave. Once she was gone, Lincoln saw that Luna had remained behind and was eying him, sadly.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"Luan is the seventh generation of those merchants." the Quartermaster explained.

"I take it the sword failed to save the sixth?" Lincoln asked, his happiness fading.

"Clever lad." Luna's mood changed, "Seriously, though, congratulations on the promotion. I knew you'd climb up the ranks fast. You have no idea how much it means to her that you'll be giving orders with that."

"I just hope I don't make myself look an idiot." Lincoln confessed.

"You'll only do that if you keep from choosing one of the girls, Linc." Luna snorted, "I might be biased, but you and Luan would make a good pair."

"Lynn kissed me on the lips." Lincoln sighed, "That was my first kiss, too."

"That little tart." Luna scowled, "She's tenacious, I'll give her that. Do you love her?"

"No. Yes. I don't know." Lincoln ran hands through his hair, "It's all such a mess."

"That it is." Luna smiled wryly, "A kiss doesn't mean much, Linc. Even bedding a gal doesn't mean she owns your heart. Only you can decide who you end up with; I recommend deciding _before_ you bed a gal, though."

"Obviously." Lincoln snorted. Lord above, what was he thinking about bedding a girl before marriage? That little voice sneered that he was a sinner, soul lost to the realm of the damned. He suppressed the trembling in his hands by placing them around the buckle of his sword belt. Cripes, even the buckled was inlaid with gold! How much did the thing cost? "I'll make Luan proud – her family too – even if I end up breaking her heart."

"I hope it doesn't come to that," Luna muttered, but then brightened, "but I know you'll make her proud; you'll make all of us prouder still."

Lincoln drummed his fingers along the leather of his new belt, a question burning in his mind.

"I know you said Luan would tell me when she was ready, but…" he inhaled sharply, "what happened to her father?"

"Blimey, that's a tale as black as the Harvester's soul." Luna growled, "It's an unspoken tale, you understand? From our early days, back before we took in many others. Back before the Captain found her way, see?"

"Not really," Lincoln confessed, "but go on."

"I shouldn't tell you, but I trust you won't go blabbing the story or – God forbid! – showing Luan _pity_!" the Quartermaster laced the word with scorn. No crewwomen aboard _Our Fair Lady_ wanted pity, especially from a man. "It was shortly after we set to the seas as pirates. Captain Lori had to establish a reputation, see? No one, even free-thinking pirates, thought women could fare on their own. After all, a ship is a man's business, so they think. We weren't always as finnicky about our targets, Linc. The Cap ordered us to board and scuttle dozens of unarmed vessels, saving survivors solely to spread the word that Captain Lori was the new scourge of the seas."

"And Luan's father's vessel was one ship too many." Lincoln said, putting the pieces together.

"Aye." Luna wiped a tear from her eye, "I remember that black day, well. Fair winds, nary a cloud in the sky – hardly a day to remember as wretched. We descended on a Dutch trading ship before I could recognize it. Captain had it boarded after clearing the decks. It was hardly manned… All that stood in our way was a young lass, weeping over the shrapnel-riddled corpse of her father. Something changed in the Captain that day. We never attacked another unarmed vessel again, never scuttled them with all hands, never killed so mercilessly."

"Why does Luan serve with the crew that killed her father?" Lincoln asked, fingers unconsciously rubbing at the pommel of his new sword.

"Lori – er – the Captain knelt before Luan that day," Luna confessed, "and wept openly at what she had become. She vowed, on her honor and her life, that she would never again attack the weak. She swore it upon a cutlass that she then gave to Luan. If ever she strayed from that vow, so she said, Luan was to cut her down with that blade."

Lincoln was speechless. That explained why the boatswain, who always seemed absent during battles, carried a cutlass even in peacetime.

"That's all it took?" Lincoln asked, incredulous.

"Heavens, no!" Luna chortled, "We tried taking her all the way back to a Dutch port, an adventure that took months, and over that time she grew attached to us as her new family, saw that Captain Lori was holding true to her vow, learned our stories and took heart in them. I don't doubt Luan still holds ill will towards the Captain, Lynn and I, though. Not so much me, since we're thick as thieves, but very likely towards the gunnery officer responsible for killing her father, and the captain who ordered it."

"I don't understand why she covers it up with so many jokes, though." Lincoln said.

"Luan's a jovial spirit, Linc." Luna explained, "It's her goal in life to make our grim business a tolerable affair, and jokes and japes is how she sees fit to do that. She takes care of the ship, but she also takes care of the crew's spirits. To her, they're one in the same."

"I never knew." Lincoln confessed, seeing Luan in a completely different light.

"Right then," Luna stood up straight and stretched, "Story time's over. Clyde wanted to see you while you still had some free time, Acting Gunnery Officer. Something about a celebratory dinner?"

In spite of the previous, somber topic, Lincoln heartened at the news and made his way for the galley.

 **This chapter ended a little weird, sorry about that. There's been some questions about shipping and romantic interests in this story. Well, I'm not sure who I'll pair Lincoln with in the end. All I can say is it will not be a harem. I have an idea on how to end the fic, though that's awhile off yet.**


	11. Chapter 11

**I'm glad everyone's still enjoying the fic, lol. I don't really think these things out too well, so apologies if they're sporadic. I write them when I have time and ideas, so the transitions tend to be jarry.**

It was a decent plan, so Lincoln thought.

Decent if you wanted everyone dead.

He sighed internally, striving not to let his anxiety show towards his gun crews. The former cabin boy actually missed running errands topside; at least then he could see what was going on around them. On the gundeck his view was horrendously hindered. The hatches were open, but the small windows to the outside world were more often obscured by the hulking pig iron cannons positioned next to them. Somehow, even the rocking of the ship seemed more pronounced on the gundeck than it did up top.

"Are you ready, girls?" he asked, keeping his voice surprisingly steady. Despite his restraint, he tapped a nervous tattoo against his sword belt.

"Aye-aye, Blackeye!" they chanted back in tandem, cheeky grins on their faces.

Despite his vexation at the nickname, he couldn't help but smile at it. He also couldn't help but massage the bruised skin around his left eye. The gun crew had been training him on the function of the cannons to help him adjust to his new role. One botched exercise would have shattered his skull if he hadn't moved back as quickly as he had. Still, even a tap from a few thousand pounds of iron was enough to knock him out and leave a nasty reminder on his face.

And one horrible term of endearment.

Lincoln struggled to keep his nerves as he thought over the plan once again. The intent was simple: draw out the Harvester's fleet to assess its strength, then break away. Hopefully, the faster British ships would break formation and follow the frigate to where Bobby and his ship-of-the-line were waiting. Every ship they sunk made the _Royal Hound_ less daunting a target, after all. Still, if their sails were clipped or their masts broken, _Our Fair Lady_ would be dead in the water, unable to outrun the ponderous man-o-war they hunted. A lucky shot could see them all hanging from the _Royal Hound_ 's yardarms.

Gripping his sword belt tight enough to whiten his knuckles, Lincoln tried to force the negativity away. They would be far from the enemy fleet. The idea was to draw them towards a trap, not engage them head-on. Reports from fishermen and traders in the surrounding waters had put the Harvester's fleet anywhere from a small escort of frigates to a retinue of three ships-of-the-line alongside the _Royal Hound_. The only thing they knew for sure was that the 124-gun flagship would be among them, and that he wasn't traveling alone.

The trip was long and unnerving, to be sure. Lana was standing in as a cabin girl, rather than her usual menagerie of dirty work. So far all she had done was confirm Lincoln's suspicions that the Harvester's fleet was avoiding their detection. Then, just as Lincoln was hoping they'd abandon the fool plan and head back to port, Lana ran down the ladderwell in a hurry, eyes as wide as saucers.

"They've been sighted!" the lass sputtered, "There must be at least a dozen ships out there!"

"How many are giving chase?" Lincoln asked, managing to keep panic from his voice.

"Looks like their three fastest ships are breaking off," Lana said, scratching filthy blonde hair beneath her red bandana, "but the whole fleet is turning to come after us."

Lincoln almost laughed from conflicting emotions. Their plan was working, as mad as it had seemed. Despite the elation that evoked, fear was festering in Lincoln's soul – too much could go wrong before the trap was sprung. Lincoln felt _Our Fair Lady_ turn sharply to starboard, trying to catch wind with all its sails and flee from the approaching vessels. Lana continued to run orders from Lori to all the officers, but she kept Lincoln informed: all three ships were schooners, lightly armed but much faster than frigate.

"They'll try to overtake us." Lincoln said, as much to himself as to his gun crews, "Standby to load! They've more guns than us, combined."

Sure enough, as the minutes wore on, Lana returned in a huff to relay the orders to load. Lincoln reluctantly unsheathed the saber Luan gave him. It was a fine steel blade, polished almost to a mirror shine. Looking at his reflection in the blade, he saw his face twisted by the Dutch writing. The twists of the cursive letters made him look as if he were… smiling.

"To Have the Last Laugh." Lincoln muttered, grinning slowly. The words on the blade twisted the grin into a comical, splitting smile. His face hardened. "Load all cannons!" he ordered, raising the blade up.

The gun crews set about loading, much faster than Lincoln could ever hope to be due to months of grueling experience. He must have imagined it, but Lincoln could swear he could hear the spray of displaced water as the schooners closed in to either side of their ship. Impossible, of course. Soon the cannons were loaded on both sides of the deck, crews holding lighted wicks at the ready, cannons rolled forward to the portholes.

Lincoln waited, arm still raised, eying the young women under his command. He felt his arm shake from more than the weight of the blade… Could he go through with the command? Could he condemn the enemy crew to a watery grave? That blade felt so much heavier than simple steel and brass. Out of the corner of his blackened eye, he saw Lana rush down the ladderwell.

"Captain says to fire at your discretion!" the young blonde said. Lincoln hesitated. "Hurry! They're about to fire on us!"

"Fire!" Lincoln roared with pent-up emotion, swinging the saber down with all the finality of an executioner.

The cannons exploded, slamming backwards on their racks. The ship juttered as it was pushed from two sides at once. The gundeck filled with smoke. All Lincoln could hear was ringing in his ears. Through the haze of smoke and the narrow portholes, Lincoln could see their shots falling short of the enemies. The schooners fired, their shots missing by mere feet. Lincoln felt panic rise in his chest and beat it down with sheer force of will. It was all under his discretion, under his command… A mistake here could see them all dead. As the crews finished cleaning their guns, he passed his next order.

"Correct aim and load the ball-and-chain!" Lincoln said, snapping when the crews looked at him, incredulously, "Hurry! We're close enough to break their masts!"

The gun crews set about reloading and were nearly finished by the time the second volley from the British schooners struck glancing shots with balls. One broke through the gundeck hull, very nearly blowing a crewwoman apart before embedding into the far bulkhead. Finally loaded, the gun crews looked to Lincoln.

"Fire!" he slashed with his saber, no hesitation this time.

The cannons slammed backwards as the volley of shot was released. Despite being a little slower on the reload, the pirates had corrected their aim flawlessly. Lincoln could see tattered sails and even a shattered mast falling over the railing. Almost immediately, the schooners to either side were falling behind, having lost their mode of propulsion. Lincoln only gaped as his gun crews gave a ragged cheer.

"Blackeye!" they cheered, "Blackeye!"

Lincoln gathered his disbelief and allowed himself a self-satisfied grin.

"Alright, girls!" he said, "Get those guns clean and standby to load again!"

"Aye-aye!" they resounded.

Lincoln looked over his shoulder and saw Lana nod, approvingly, before running back topside. Lincoln really wanted to join her topside, just to see if the rest of the fleet were still pursuing them – or at the very least, to sit down. How could Lynn stand doing this job, day in and day out? He'd only been at it for a few hours and already it was exhausting.

"Captain says the third one's riding up to our portside." Lana said, reappearing, "Load and fire at your discretion."

"What do you say, girls?" Lincoln was surprised at how confident he sounded, "How about we give them a bloody nose?"

The cheers were all the confirmation he needed. He had them load the portside cannons with solid shot. Traditionally, cannonballs did relatively little damage to a ship, the holes being easy enough to patch up even in the heat of a battle. Unless aimed at the waterline.

"Think you all can shoot straight?" Lincoln smirked, enjoying the wolfish grins his comment earned him, "Put as many through her waterline as you can. We're breaking her back!"

"Aye-aye!" the chorus went up as cannons were rolled into position, the crews adjusting the arcs as the third schooner came into view along the portside.

Lincoln raised the saber, which seemed much lighter now, and dropped it in a cruel slash. The cannons slammed back once more and, through the smoke, Lincoln could see several of them splash painlessly in the water. The rest, though, could not have hit more accurately. Large holes tore into the lower hull of the schooner just as it opened fire. Still trying to find its range, much to Lincoln's relief, the enemy's shots went wild, missing their marks.

Except one.

Lincoln's frock whipped as displaced air rushed around him, nearly knocking him flat. Splinters embedded themselves in his clothes and flesh, but the shot had missed him. The sound of wood splintering resounded as the ball skipped across the decking, gunners hollering warnings as they struggled out of the way of the rogue munition. Finally, however, the sound of bone crunching and blood splashing went up, pierced only by the shrill screaming of a victim. Lincoln turned around, ignoring his own injuries.

One of his gunners laid on her back, tricorn fallen and her long, brown hair flowing freely. Her eyes were wide with shock, her mouth a cavern of pained screams. Her crewmates from the same gun struggled to put pressure on the splintered bone and tattered flesh of her left leg, gone at the knee. Blood pooled around her in great quantity. Lincoln didn't know a human could _hold_ so much blood.

"Blackeye, what do we do?" a gunner asked, calmly, as if there wasn't a shrieking woman on deck.

"Load the shot!" Lincoln barked, tears welling in his eyes, "Clear their gundeck before they find the range!"

The portside loaders set about the task, unable to rouse a cheer above the slowly dying screams of their crewmate. Finally, they rolled the long nines out once more, aim adjusted for the gundeck instead of the waterline. Fortune had it that Luna was steering the schooner closer, likely to board the lone schooner and draw the rest of the fleet in. Still, Lincoln hesitated at giving the order to fire. The screaming had stopped and the Acting Gunnery Officer couldn't bear to wish that fate upon anyone. Closing his eyes, squeezing tears out in the process, Lincoln swung down with his saber.

For a final time that evening, the cannons rocked backwards, clouds of metal chain and silverware exploding outwards through portholes in the enemy ship. Lincoln thought he could hear the men scream as their bodies were shredded by shot, but that was impossible – nothing could be heard over the thunder of the guns. There were no return shots.

"The Captain is preparing to board!" Lana passed along, grinning despite the dead crewwoman hastily covered by a tarp, "She told me to pass along her praise; she says she knew you'd do right!"

Lincoln smiled, but there was nothing like warmth in his eyes. He wiped his sword off, as if it were coated with the blood of the men and woman he'd killed, before sheathing it. Kneeling before the woman – really just a girl, little older than himself – he sighed. He scrubbed at his eyes with the woolen sleeve of his frock. All the smoke in the air was irritating them, so he told himself.

"Did she have a family?" Lincoln asked.

"We are her family," a crewwoman said, "we all are."

Lincoln couldn't argue; it felt as if he had watched a sister die. He said a quick prayer for the young woman's soul before standing again. After a while, Lana returned to tell them the fighting was over and that the rest of the fleet had backed off. Lincoln frowned. They'd failed to draw the fleet out for a battle, which was probably for the best; even with three crippled ships, a dozen could easily best the pirates' two. Sighing, Lincoln went topside.

He was greeted with cheering, which shocked him. Lori herself strode towards him, blonde hair radiant in the fading sunlight, face illuminated by burning wicks, her cold blue eyes outlined sharply by the coal lining her eyes. Then the façade cracked with a smile.

"You saved all our hides, Acting Gunnery Officer." Lori laughed.

"I… I failed, though." Lincoln said, "The objective was to draw the entire fleet out, wasn't it? Instead, I scared them off."

"That _was_ the plan," Lori confessed, "but we weren't expecting twelve ships. Even those three schooners would have taken a toll on us if you hadn't taken away their sails. We would have been the ones crippled, and left for the sharks far behind us, if not for you. You've saved us all."

"Not all of us." Lincoln let a tear drop from his eye, and the Captain's impression of him be damned.

Lori understood at once and removed her hat. The absence of wicks didn't do much to ease her imposing carriage. Still, her eyes had gone from shining and proud to… hurt. She put a hand on Lincoln's shoulder, almost motherly. Only then did Lincoln see the cut on her arm, a bloody cash ruining her teal frock.

"We are born of loss, Linc," she said, "having no ties is our greatest strength; it's unwise to grow too attached to anything. Or anyone."

With that, she turned and left, heading back to her cabin. Clyde was in tow, carrying needle, thread, and rum. A small part of Lincoln's mind realized that Clyde wasn't merely a galley officer, but also the ship's doctor. The larger part of his mind was stuck mulling over the Captain's grim advice. Instinctively he thought of Lynn, Lucy, Luan and even Ronnie Anne. She was a cabin girl, as liable to die young at sea as the girl lying cold under a tarp.

And how many families had he destroyed with the casual swings of his saber? How many young men, all serving their country, had he blown apart with lead and pig iron? How many mothers would weep at the news their sons were never returning, their bodies ruined beyond recognition and unable to be buried properly? God above, he could finally see what would drive his predecessor, Linka, to suicide. Was this the life he had chosen? Thieving and murder? Fleeing from justice? Dying ignobly with only cold, distant brigands to remember him?

Yet…

When he looked up, he saw the crew cheering. Dirty hands, coated in pitch and soot, seized him gently. He was being raised aloft; they were cheering for him. Doubloons and semi-precious stones were clinking across the deck as a captured chest spilled over. Filthy fists filled with treasure, gap-toothed grins in soot-smeared faces, happy to be rich in bouillon and glory, happy to be alive another day! They tossed their coins and jeweled necklaces on his hoisted, frame, and he caught a coin in his hand – just a shilling, but he had caught it perfectly. Queen Anne on one side, England's coat of arms on the other.

" _Dei Gratia_ …" he muttered to himself, a smile splitting his face, "By the grace of God."

Then Lincoln did something altogether different. He started laughing. Almost madly, with tears in his eyes. He drank in the cheering, joining in when Luna took up a cheery shanty. He was a pirate now, for better or worse – by the grace of God! Laughing in jubilation, he flipped the coin and caught it, barely noticing the blood staining his hands. Was it real, or imagined? No matter, anymore. He was a pirate, a brigand, a ruthless cutthroat.

And he would be the best of them. On his damned soul, so he swore.

 **I know my fics tend to be a little over-the-top, or needlessly dark, but I like to think that's part of their appeal :P**

 **Seriously, I've tried to do lighthearted; it always goes bad.**


	12. Chapter 12

"I would like to start by saying how pleased I am, with all of you," Lori's voice rang out across the deck. Every officer was present, and very nearly all of the crew. "You're all probably wondering, looking at the schooner, who gets the prize."

Lincoln joined every other head in turning towards the captured schooner. With all its holes patched up – courtesy of Luan and Lana – it looked like a mismatched hulk better suited on the seabed. Still, it was another vessel to add to their growing pirate fleet. Lincoln was curious as to who would get the schooner. Returning his gaze to his superiors, he went to flipping his prized shilling.

"There's few I would trust more with the responsibility than my first mate, Leni," Lori clapped the younger blonde on the back. It seemed Leni was better dressed for piracy, in frock and breeches, but they were so heavy in thread-of-gold and lace, she might as well have been wearing a dress.

"I am, like, very honored." Leni beamed, removing her wide-brimmed hat, "I hope I can make the fleet proud."

"I've no doubt of that." Lori grinned, "Now you get to choose a first mate of your own. You already know all of our officers, but if you'd prefer picking someone from the ranks-"

"I name Lincoln as my first mate." Leni said without hesitation, an innocuous smile on her face. Lincoln missed catching his shilling at hearing his name called.

"I'm honored, but…" Lincoln bent over to pick up his shilling, "I'm just a cabin boy, at best an acting gunnery officer."

"Leni, don't go stoking the boy's ego." Lori said, quietly enough that only the officers near her heard, "He's not ready for this much responsibility."

"That didn't stop you from making me captain." Leni replied, dryly and just as softly, then much louder, "Lincoln, you have saved _Our Fair Lady_ and her crew, like, on multiple occasions. I doubt there's a single officer present that would deny you the right for the promotion."

"He _did_ save your life." Clyde pointed out to Lori.

"Not to mention he's had more to say at our meetings than Lucy and Leni combined." Luna added, "Quite a lot of say, for a cabin boy."

"Alright, alright!" Lori groaned, "Lincoln, do you feel up to it?"

"Shouldn't I have more experience?" Lincoln asked, "Captain Savvy wasn't raised this quickly."

"Captain Savvy's a child's story, for one," Lori sighed, "and for two, he was in a professional navy. We promote based on merit, not years of service or family name, Linc. _You_ are, frankly, overqualified for the job."

"You're too kind." Lincoln blinked.

"I'm honest." Lori scowled, "Are you taking the job, or did you want to run errands and fill in for Lynn the rest of your life?"

Lincoln rubbed his thumb along the shilling, thinking. He could feel the words etched into the coin. Surely, this was part of providence. No boy his age, without sailing experience, would be taken in by an all-woman crew. No boy would be promoted so rapidly, command so much respect from crew and superiors alike. By the grace of God, it must be.

"I'll do it," he said at last, clenching a fist around the shilling.

"Good." Lori nodded, "Luna, see about finding him something befitting his new rank. A first mate in our fleet should wear something nicer than _that_."

Lincoln looked at his clothes. The breeches were simple and brown, worn in crotch and knees, and his shirt was a yellowed from sweat. His shoes, simple black leather, and brass buckle, had been worn since his earliest days when he first met Lynn. Even his frock coat was little more than threadbare wool and patches, a hand-me-down from Lynn in a pale, faded green.

"Come on, Linc." Luna tugged his lapel.

"I'll help you." Leni smiled kindly, "You will be serving under me, after all, so it's important we don't clash _too_ much."

Lincoln then endured, perhaps, the most strenuous three hours of his entire service aboard _Our Fair Lady_. Searching through trunks and chests of clothing, jewelry, and boots, Lincoln had to stand and change before the two young women – thankfully Lynn was on another ship, or he'd never hear the end of how he _preened_ for them! Finally, though, they left him be. Fine, grey breeches were tucked into shined, black leather boots. His shirt was a natural white with laces, and his coat was a blazing orange with black cuffs and golden buttons. For a hat, he chose a slightly less flamboyant flat-brim than Leni's, the left side pinned up with a feathery plume.

"I feel a little ridiculous." Lincoln sighed, "I wouldn't normally dress this nice."

"You're a first mate, now," Luna pointed out, "on a schooner, admittedly, but that's more than a dinghy."

"You have to look the part." Leni said, "First impressions are the most important."

"Here, take this." Luna said, tossing him some soft coal.

"Don't tell me you expect me to wear eyeliner, now!" Lincoln groaned.

"Your name's Blackeye, isn't it?" Luna grinned, "Sooner or later, that bruise will die down, but that name will stick so long as you look the part."

"Why would I want to be remembered as Blackeye?" Lincoln asked.

"A name, even one as benign as that, is part of the pirate image." Leni explained, "Every pirate _needs_ a name! And that one will inspire fear."

" _And_ respect." Luna added, "In time, you'll be a legend, and no one will be calling you _Lincoln the Pirate_. No, they'll call you _Captain Blackeye_."

"Has a nice ring to it." Leni touched her lip, thoughtfully.

"I suppose I won't be seeing you girls often, anymore." Lincoln sighed.

"I'm not that easy to get rid of, _Blackeye_." Lincoln turned at Luan's voice.

"Luan?" the first mate blinked, "Who will be bosun aboard _Our Fair Lady_?"

"Lana's a lot smarter than she looks," Luan said, "and a lot more responsible than her age lets on."

"You won't be without friends, Linc." Clyde added as he approached them, "As much as I hate to leave Lori's side, I couldn't leave you to a fate without my cooking."

"I suppose Lynn and Lucy will show up next?" Lincoln chuckled, hoping it might be so.

"Afraid not." Luna shook her head, "Lucy's still the watch officer aboard _Our Fair Lady_ , but Lynn will be coming to train our gun crews once she gets done kicking Bobby's boys into shape."

"And I'm sure she'll drag her stay aboard out." Luan added, sourly. Lincoln had a sinking suspicion she was aware about that kiss on the lips.

"Well, you can't have them all." Lincoln shrugged, cringing once he realized what he said.

"No, you can't." Luna said, sternly, "You'd better get aboard your new charge, you four, before Lori kicks the stuffing out of you."

As Lincoln and the others crossed a gangplank to the schooner, the first mate thought of something he'd read about in his books.

"A schooner doesn't have much of a crew, or a galley," he pointed out, "you can't _just_ be our galley officer, Clyde. What else are you doing?"

"I'm actually the quartermaster, too." Clyde said sheepishly, "Something of a promotion."

"He-ey," Lincoln grinned, "maybe you'll be captain one day, too."

"Captain?" Clyde balked, "no siree. Not even pirates would want to see me in charge."

"We'll see about that." Lincoln promised, "I'm going to change people's minds; you'll see."

"I'll hold you to it." Luan giggled.

The schooner was at once a pleasant surprise and a rude awakening. It was smaller, cramped and far too under-armed for Lincoln's tastes, but handled smoothly and quickly, and was in far better state than _Our Fair Lady_. Such was to be expected from a British military vessel, even one stuck hunting pirates in the Caribbean. Besides the fact, the gundeck was also the galley and the barracks, Lincoln was surprised that a room – a closet, really – was set aside for him to use as a cabin. Being a first mate had benefits, apparently, even on a ship this small. Luan and Clyde took up their spots with among the meager crew. Barely a handful of women were present, each barely familiar to Lincoln – a testament to how new they were to the crews.

"Seems this ship's green in more ways than one." Luan muttered, eying the crew, "We got stuck with all the untried crewwomen. Judging by the cleanliness of this ship, I'd say it's barely been two years out of the drydock."

"Like, a new crew and ship, for a new captain and first mate." Leni grinned, wearing her large flat-brim back on her crown, "We'll have to whip them into shape."

"Right." Lincoln nodded, "Um… what do I actually do?"

"You get the fun job of paperwork!" Leni beamed, "I used to spend hours hunched over a writing table, going over the numbers and recordkeeping for Captain Lori."

" _You_?!" Lincoln gaped. Leni didn't seem the bureaucratic sort, and certainly not the type to count beans.

"She's a lot smarter than she looks, Linc." Clyde whispered, "She's kept the logistics of the whole fleet running smoothly for nearly as long as we've had her. I can only imagine how much Lori's probably missing her right now."

"I don't think I can do all that." Lincoln admitted, "That's a lot of numbers and papers to keep track of."

"You won't be doing _that_ much, silly." Leni snorted, "All you have to concern yourself with is managing the reports submitted by Clyde and Luan, here. They'll tell you everything you need to know, namely what we need more of. All you have to do is keep track of it all and submit the reports to me in briefings. It's totally easy! I did it all the time for Lori, and with _way_ more materials than this tiny ship has."

"That's my only responsibility?" Lincoln asked, incredulous.

"Captain Lori likes captains to lead without clutter, so she has all that forced on the first mates." Luan explained, "All a captain should worry about is command; order, discipline and supply all fall to you. Unless, of course, the problem is so severe it requires the captain's attention."

"Such as an exposed mutineer being put before the mast." Clyde cringed; even mention of flogging screwed his face up.

"I see." Lincoln frowned, "So besides all the paperwork, I have to maintain order and discipline on the ship?"

"Yep." Leni smiled.

"Begging your pardon, Captain, but what do captains do?" the First Mate asked.

"They have the hardest job of all, Linc." Leni leaned in, conspiratorially, eyes blazing with wonder she whispered, "They _lead_."

For the next few days Lincoln mulled that thought over in his head. The small fleet had been reassembled – the Harvester's hunting party had broken the chase after two schooners were crippled and one taken. While the pirate fleet visited port, and resupplied in Tortuga, Lincoln was kept busy scribbling reports from Luan and Clyde on what their small ship lacked, delivering them to Leni, than being told to inform his fellow officers to make do with what little supplies they got back. He'd never seen Luan fly into such a rage, before! Clyde explained she took her job as boatswain very serious, but didn't genuinely hold it against Lincoln.

Still, the thought burned in the back of his mind. If quartermasters, galley officers, and boatswains all took care of the stores and ship, and the watch and gunnery officers managed the crew, and the first mate managed the officers, then what was so difficult about being a captain? Despite how easy the job seemed at a glance, Lincoln noticed Leni… harden. Her smiles became rarer, her once bright, blue eyes somehow dull and grayer, and complexion seemed ashen. If being in command, which seemed like a cakewalk prepared to the backbreaking paperwork he was doing, made Leni harden so, he could only imagine what his grim work was changing him into.

"Happy birthday, Lincoln!" Luan and Clyde snapped him out of his dark reverie, startling him with their grins and the bottle of port they carried.

"Birthday?" he asked, stupidly, "But it's only…" eying the calendar, his eyes widened in surprise. He had completely forgotten his own birthday, buried beneath the mountains of reports that had accumulated in a single week. And for such a tiny ship, no less!

"We managed to convince the Captain to spare you for a few hours." Clyde chuckled, "Figured you'd need a break, huh? Busy week."

"Hard to believe you're only fifteen now." Luan eyed Lincoln from head to toe, eyes lingering in a few areas that made him shift with a blush, "You look more a man than a boy, already."

"Piracy will do that to you." Lincoln said, then softly with a wolfish grin, "By the grace of God."

"What was that?" Clyde asked, passing him a glass already filled with liquor.

"Just an inside joke." Lincoln waved an arm, dismissively, "Thanks guys. I didn't realize how much I needed this."

"If you're feeling stressed from the work, these hands are good for more than just hammering planks." Luan chuckled to herself as she walked behind Lincoln.

Before the first mate could protest, her hands had removed his orange coat and were attacking knots in his muscles with surprising dexterity. A little painful at first, it made him cringe, and then he simply melted in her hands. Hours of pent up agitation and days of labor hunched over the desk simply evaporated as her calloused fingers kneaded out all the little kinks that had been plaguing him during his first week as first mate.

"A bosun should do more than simply care for the ship," Luan said, matter-of-factly, "she should also look after the wellbeing of her crewmates."

"This feels… amazing." Lincoln groaned, moving his neck. Christ, how he'd forgotten how! The damn thing had been so stiff he couldn't look side to side before now.

"They're yours, anytime you need them." Luan whispered in his ear, mouth lingering just long enough to gently nip his lobe. God above, how Lincoln hoped Clyde hadn't seen that!

"Seems I grabbed the wrong port." Clyde said, smiling slyly, getting up, "While I search for the right bottle, I think Luan wanted to give you a… birthday gift."

With that, Clyde left chuckling to himself, making sure to close the door behind him. Suddenly, blood draining from his face, Lincoln realized they'd planned this! Luan was already running her hands – oh, those magical hands! – through his white locks.

"It'll take him awhile to find that bottle." Luan giggled, "Maybe about, oh, thirty minutes?"

"Or maybe an hour." Lincoln grinned, looking up at her. Part of him felt bad – for Lucy and Lynn – but he pushed that out of his head, for now. Hormones were driving him forward, as well as the incessant catechism that assured his sanity in this bleak business, the singular chant that sanctioned piracy and carousing, a motto that drove him ever onward!

By the grace of God!

 **Infrequent updates, as promised. Luan's scored a point, but don't fret shippers. No pairing is final 'til the story's over.**


	13. Chapter 13

**I did it! I updated a hiatus fic! I'm a God! AHAHAHAHAHA!**

 **Also, if you're looking for good pirate music, I recommend either Alestorm (pirate metal), or Worldwide Adventurers (shanties and ballads). Other good artists include the Dreadnoughts, and The Pirates Charles.**

Lincoln's eyes fluttered open. The tropical sun was just rising, clear through the small, lone porthole that decorated his closet-sized room. He tried to stretch, but something warm wrapped around him. Looking down he was surprised to see a pair of feminine arms snaking his torso. A look back confirmed that the evening before hadn't been a debased, pleasurable dream, but something far better.

"Mmm…" Luan smiled, showing off her crooked teeth that somehow didn't detract from her beauty, "Morning already?"

"Sure is, beautiful," Lincoln smiled, kissing her on one of the hands around his chest.

They sat up together, heads still swimming from his birthday gift. She hid nothing, even her hair unbound from its usual ponytail. Lincoln noticed the scars peppering her body, some new, some old, all fading as they healed. Every pirate had them, she said – bits of wood and iron were hard to avoid in a proper battle, and she had clearly seen her fair share. He had somehow found time to count them all during their… celebration. 48 scars of varying size and depth, not a one marring her good looks.

"I feel a little bad for Clyde," Luan chuckled, stretching, "I honestly thought my stress relief would take 30 minutes – an hour at most."

"I had a lot of stress," Lincoln said, turning Luan's chuckle into a laugh.

They got dressed between kisses and a clear desire to take it further, but duty called – even for pirates. With a spring in his step, Lincoln carried his bundle of reports to Leni while whistling a shanty Luna had taught him early in his career. Luan went the other way, the two of them parting with a dragged out and passionate kiss. When he arrived at Leni's cabin, his smile faded.

"Have a good night?" the captain yawned, rubbing sleep from her eyes, "You, like, kept half the crew up."

"I-I…" Lincoln's face turned so red you'd think blood would seep through his pores, "I'm sorry."

"Like, for what?" Leni smirked, "It was your birthday. Besides, we're all happy you've finally chosen a girl. That love tangle you made was going to collapse, sooner or later. You and Luan are a cute fit."

"Right," the blood drained from Lincoln's face. Chosen a girl? He had just been acting on impulse! God above, he hadn't actually thought about _committing_!

 _When will you start thinking about the consequences before acting?!_ He thought just as another voice in his head raged, _Pirates do not think about consequences!_

"Captain, er…" Leni stopped herself, "Admiral Lori wants us to leave port with all haste to stop the Harvester. There was another attempt on her life, last night."

"Another!" Lincoln was baffled.

"Don't worry, Lucy's watch officers killed the man before he could get aboard," Leni said, "Still, a week in port is long enough, don't you think?"

"Luan and Clyde still don't have all the supplies they need," Lincoln began.

"I've, like, already explained that we don't have the money for those supplies," Leni sighed, "We haven't really been striving for riches lately."

" _Touché_ ," Lincoln nodded, slowly, "I'll relay the order to prepare for voyage."

The next two days went by uneventfully – except for busy evenings with Luan, of course, that left them tired the next morning. Then, relayed from the Admiral herself, the three ships set out for the nearest British port, a little-known isle some miles away from Tortuga. If the Harvester was going to resupply or go to ground, that was the most likely port to try. The days rolled on as they scoured the endless ocean, searching for their quarry. Days melted into weeks, and the small crew aboard the frigate – still unnamed, despite Leni's efforts – grew restless.

"Stew yesterday, stew today, and Heaven blind me if it won't be stew tomorrow!" one of the crewwomen roared, jumping up from the table, "By the powers, I'm sick of the gruel we're eating!"

"Gruel?!" Clyde recoiled as if slapped, "If you don't like my stews, you're welcome to eating rats!"

"If I have to eat one more boiled piece of salt-fish, I'll lose my mind!" the same crewwoman clutched her head, "The fruit is rotting and there's rot in half the vegetables! Don't pretend there isn't, Quartermaster!"

"Hold your tongue!" Luan shot.

"All of you, calm yourselves!" Lincoln shouted. He had had to raise his voice far too often, of late. "I'll bring the Captain down here, mark me!"

"What could that loon do, anyway!" the crewwoman sneered, "You could bring down our blind _Admiral_ , too, while you're about it! She's lost her way, she has!"

"How dare you question your Admiral?" Clyde gaped.

"Since when did she start letting men serve in our hallowed ranks?" the crewwoman asked, arousing mutinous looks in the others, "Would Captain Lori of old ever dream of putting a _man_ above any of us? Here stands two, who have the audacity to command us!"

"And _I_ command them." Leni said as she entered the makeshift galley, "If you have a problem, Isabelle, you can present it to me."

"I…" Isabelle paled, "I meant no offense, but surely you see the Admiral's changed."

"She's in love," Leni shrugged, "Man or woman, if he or she is, like, appointed above you by the Admiral, it's your job to obey. It's really simple. Even a loon could figure it."

Lincoln only thought Isabelle was pale before.

"Forgive me, Captain!" she pleaded.

"A Captain must make hard decisions." Leni said softly, "Tie her to the mast."

Isabelle began begging as her fellow crewmates dragged her above deck. Leni maintained a stony face until only her fellow officers remained, then she collapsed to her knees. She released an unsteady breath as tears ran down her face. She felt sick just thinking about the task ahead, but a leader never asked her underlings to do a job she herself couldn't do.

"Leni, um…" Lincoln cleared his throat, "Captain, are you alright?"

"As I said, First Mate," Leni dried her eyes and stood on unsteady legs. With a visible effort, she regained her composure. "leading is a difficult job. Quartermaster, bring me the cat."

"A-aye, Cap," Clyde grimaced. After returning from the stores, he handed a cat o' nine tails to Leni's shaking hand. "Permission to sit this one out?"

"I'm sorry, Clyde," Leni steadied herself again, "but I can't, like, afford to show favoritism. Everyone has to watch. Even me…"

The officers strode onto the deck, taking their places at the heads of the small crew. Isabella was already stripped to the waist, her breasts crushed against the mast as her hands were tightly bound. She had quit struggling and sulked, pale-faced and nauseous. Lincoln put a hand on Clyde's shoulder for comfort, only imagining how painful this would be to watch.

"For insubordination against your Captain," Leni said as she strode onto deck, her voice unnaturally stern and fiery, every word making the captive flinch as if she were already being whipped, "ten lashes! For disrespecting your officers and slandering them, a further fifteen lashes! For attempting to incite a mutiny, twenty lashes!"

"M-mutiny!" Isabella looked close to sobbing as her legs shook, "C-captain, I swear I didn't-"

"Finally, for slandering the Admiral, who showed us the way… such a crime is, like, so barbarous, it deserves a fitting punishment," Leni stopped within striking distance of the bound sailor, shivering. To her crew, it appeared as if she were shaking with unspent rage; to her officers, they knew it was the effort of avoiding falling to the deck and crying. "Thirty more lashes!"

The entire crew, officers included, went wide-eyed and collectively sucked in their breaths. Some of the crewwomen began to mutter, but the cold glare of the Captain silenced them before they could protest. Clyde tried to step forward, to protest on behalf of the crewwomen – 75 lashes was inhumane! – but Leni only shook her head, forestalling the argument.

Then she began.

True to their oaths, all the officers watched, faces rigid like steel. Leni forced her strikes to hurt, forced them to be punitive, putting all of the frustration she felt at herself into the whip. Isabella cried out, she screamed, she sobbed, and then she only moaned like a wounded animal. Her back went from smooth flesh to red welts, and from there it turned into a crosshatch of bloody lines. Despite the emotional torment, Leni did not stop until she had reached 75. She wanted to run below and cry, but her station demanded she do more.

"Untie her!" Leni ordered and immediately two crewwomen rushed forward to release the numbed Isabella, "You may think this punishment cruel. It is. Mutiny, however, is no joke! You say you want the Captain Lori of old, well, this is, like, how she ran things! Or have you all forgotten? Seventy-five lashes will not kill her, provided our good doctor can keep the sickness from her wounds, but it will serve as a reminder to her – and to all of you! – to never question the wisdom of _Admiral_ Lori, ever again!"

Her voice croaked a little near the end as she glared into the eyes of every crewwoman, forcing them to look away in fear. Clearing her throat, she made for her cabin, shoving the whip into Lincoln's hands as she passed.

"Clean that up, First Mate," she mumbled, "Dismissed!"

Lincoln was still staring at the bloody length of leather chord long after the crew had gone below. Clyde had immediately joined Isabella, having crewwomen rush to gather supplies as he assessed her wounds with grim-faced stoicism. Lincoln wanted to toss the thing over the side of the ship, but he understood its necessity among a crew of brigands.

"You alright?" Luan asked, her faint Dutch accent laced with concern.

"Yeah," Lincoln lied, going to return the whip to storage. Like most of the crew, he ignored looking at Clyde working on Isabella.

"Hey, listen," Luan began, following Lincoln down the ladderwell, "You know how I have really bad timing with my jokes and make them at the wrong times?"

"Luan, if this is a setup for a joke related to whips, I _really_ don't want to hear it," Lincoln sighed as he tossed the whip into a trunk. Turning to face her, he realized they were all alone in one of the more secluded parts of the small ship.

"It's not a joke," Luan managed to grin, though it looked forced, "I was going to say I'm pretty bad at timing in general… I wanted to talk to you about us."

"Oh," Lincoln blushed, scratching at his ear, "I-I suppose we should."

"You don't have to stay with me," the boatswain said in a huff, startling him.

"What?" he felt a little twist in his heart at the pain in her face.

"I-I thought if I got to you first," Luan began, "if I liquored you up and bedded you, I thought that I could _own_ you, but… I know you love Lynn. Or maybe Lucy, I don't know…"

Lincoln gaped. He had certainly thought over this particular problem some over the week. He still thought of Lynn, that was sure, and Lucy, even though he was with Luan. In fact, it was because he thought of the others so often that he avoided getting intimate with her again. He felt awful admitting it to himself.

"I want you to myself," Luan went on, fighting back tears, "You're so… noble, and idealistic, and courageous. You're nothing like the other men in the world! You remind me of my father, and _no_ my father and I weren't _that_ close. You remind me of his best qualities, but you're also different in the best of ways. All the same, I know your heart isn't mine. I can't buy you with fancy swords and sex, as much as I wish I could… If you don't want to stay with me, I understand."

Lincoln closed the distance between them and grabbed her forcefully by the arms, startling her. His hat knocked her tricorn off from the sudden movement, exposing the cute, antennae-like loose strands from beneath. The First Mate opened and closed his mouth several times, trying to think of something to say, and she just stood there, waiting, slightly anxious. Finally, Lincoln kissed her. He had to know, had to make sure that their kiss was just as powerful – even _more_ powerful – than the kiss he'd shared with Lynn.

It was beyond comparison.

"D-does this mean..?" Luan struggled to ask.

"Let's get married," Lincoln said, quickly, "I mean, I'm hardly a good Christian, anymore, b-but we should make it official."

"You're mad!" Luan laughed, but the rosy tint in her cheeks and the glint in her eyes showed she liked the idea, "W-who could marry us, anyway? We're nowhere near land!"

"The Captain!" Lincoln laughed, "She may not be a man, but as a shipmaster, she can officiate a marriage!"

"I-I don't even have a dress," Luan blushed as Lincoln brought her in an embrace, "Unless you're fine with me wearing men's clothes…"

"That's how I met you," Lincoln inhaled her scent, a mixture of sweat, tar, and the faint hint of sparse women's soap, "it's how I'll always know you. Unless you want a dress – I'm sure Leni packed some."

"W-we don't even have rings," Luan said, "A-aren't we supposed to wear bands?"

"I'll think of something," Lincoln said, "but you're right. I should give you some kind of engagement ring, some token to show my dedication and faithfulness to you until we're official."

Rummaging through his pockets he found the shilling he'd carried around for so long of his journey and held it for her to see. She quirked an eyebrow at the largely worthless coin. Was this a joke?

"This coin has a lot of sentimental value to me," Lincoln explained, quietly, "It helped me come to terms with being a pirate when I felt lost and scared. By the grace of God, I want you to have it."

"I-I couldn't," Luan stared at the coin as if it were suddenly a holy relic.

"Luan, you gave me your family sword," Lincoln chuckled, "you can take the coin. It's not much of a dowry, but it's all I've got of any real worth. I want you to have it."

Luan took the coin with tears in her eyes before throwing her arms around Lincoln.

"I'm so happy," she whispered into his shirt as tears dropped down his back, "happier than I've been in a long time."

"I'm glad," Lincoln returned the embrace, peppering her crown with kisses.

Despite their eagerness, they waited until things cooled down on the ship. Isabella would be fine, Clyde assured them, provided they didn't lose their medical supplies before her wounds were properly healed. Leni stayed distant, putting on her stern Captain act out of desperation. The crew wondered when she'd return to her old self, which they had enjoyed. Even Isabella had quit sulking and apologized for driving the Captain 'over the edge'. At night, though, Lincoln could hear Leni sobbing in the next cabin over.

Finally, they decided to propose their idea to her, since the fleet still hadn't drawn out their enemy.

"Like, what do you want?" Leni asked, forcing a smile.

"This might sound a little odd," Lincoln began, "but… will you marry us?"

Leni looked at them, sparing glances between them and checking over their shoulders to see if the rest of the crew were listening in.

"Is… is this a joke, Luan?" the Captain asked.

"For the first time," Luan beamed her crooked smile, "I'm glad it isn't!"

Leni, who had been so cold and distant, so sad and angry over the last week, suddenly brightened up and looked for all the world like her old self. She got up from her desk and brought both crewmen in for a hug, squealing like a little girl.

"This is, like, just what the crew needs to bring up morale!" Leni giggled as she cried. Luan and Lincoln knew it certainly helped her morale, if nothing else. "Oh, I didn't bring over any dresses or extra clothes… Are you sure you don't want to wait until we get back to shore or something?"

"We could be dead by then," Luan pointed out.

"I don't think I could wait another day, truth be told," Lincoln said almost on top of her.

"You two are adorable!" Leni sighed, "Alright, the wedding will be first thing in the morning. You have rings, though, right?"

"I thought of an excellent alternative," Lincoln grinned.

From there the three officers approached Clyde, who was applying medicine to Isabella's back.

"Hey, Clyde!" Lincoln smiled, "You know how to do tattoos, right?"

"And a million other things," the quartermaster grunted, "Why? Thinking of making the black eye permanent?"

"Maybe later," the first mate couldn't keep the grin off his face, "Luan and I are getting married, and we want you to tattoo rings on our fingers!"

Clyde went bug-eyed at the idea, while Isabella propped herself up in surprise, then paled at the sight of the Captain.

"C-cap," she mumbled.

"At ease, Isabella," Leni said, "You've already been adequately punished, so there's, like, nothing to fear."

"I don't have much in the way of good booze, especially with our stores running low," Clyde warned, "but I did have a bottle of port I was saving for a special occasion. This certainly qualifies."

"No offense," Isabella muttered, "but ain't we at war, at the moment? Is this the best time to be having a wedding?"

"It's the perfect time," Lincoln said, "If either of us died in battle before we were married, I'd never forgive myself – in this life _or_ the next."

Isabella simply shrugged. It was as good an excuse as any to celebrate, and considering how long they'd been at sea, making no money, they could use the celebration.

The next few days were filled with the usual work, as no one could afford to shirk their duties. Leni relayed the message to the flagship, and the three vessels connected each other with planks and grapples in calm waters. Rather than be frustrated by the delay, Admiral Lori seemed unusually jubilant at the chance for the ships to gather and the crews to mingle. She allowed Leni to retain the honor of marrying the two, rather than taking the job for herself. Lincoln gulped at the prospect of seeing the others again. Needless to say, inviting girls to a marriage wasn't a very polite way to reject them.

Gathering on the deck of _Our Fair Lady_ , a large portion of all three crews stood and chattered away. Despite the initial reservations of serving alongside women and family, the Spanish crew had grown comfortable in their new lives – especially the single men who suddenly had a large number of single women to talk to, with a shared interest in naval service. Luan had been taken away by Lori and Leni and – as was traditional – would not be seen by Lincoln until the wedding. He twiddled his thumbs nervously with only Clyde to keep him company.

"Uh-oh," the quartermaster muttered, and it was the only warning Lincoln had.

"Well, well, well," Lynn said as she approached, scowling. Amazingly, Ronnie Anne was by her side and looking much the same. They had been serving together on Captain Bobby's ship, of course, so Lincoln wasn't surprised they had bonded. Lucy trailed behind, looking the same as she always did. "So, you're getting married now? It was quite nice of you to tell us all!"

"It happened pretty suddenly," Lincoln maintained his poise with some effort, but it paid off. Lynn did a small double-take, remembering she was addressing a superior officer, and she cleared her throat.

"I just thought that maybe…" the gunnery officer inhaled a shaky breath, "it doesn't matter. You and Luan are a good fit, good as any I suppose."

"What this fool is trying to say," Ronnie Anne shouldered Lynn aside, "is that we're happy for you."

"Even if we are a little disappointed in your decision," Lucy added.

"Disappointed?!" Lynn guffawed, "W-why would we be disappointed?"

"Y-yeah," Ronnie Anne joined in on the forced laughter, "It's not like we liked him, or anything."

"Right," Lucy murmured, "Well, I did. I find you very attractive, Lincoln – in more ways than just physical. It is rather saddening to see you with another woman, but _c'est la vie_. At least we have more men to choose from, now."

"As Lynn is perfectly aware," Ronnie Anne muttered with a smirk.

"Sh-shut up!" Lynn blushed.

"Oh?" Lincoln felt some jealousy, but considering he had already rejected Lynn, he dismissed it as a silly emotion.

"One of her gunnery crew, a kid named Francisco," Ronnie Anne made kissy faces and even Lucy smirked, "Lynn's been obsessing over him."

"It's not what you think, Linc!" Lynn assured him, then remembered they weren't getting together, "Or, uh… Do you think he might like me?"

"What's not to like?" Lincoln asked, honestly.

"Oh, brother," Ronnie Anne rolled her eyes, blushing, "You're about to get married, _amigo_ ; lower the charm a little."

"I'm just trying to be nice," Lincoln said.

"Perfect in every way," Lucy sighed, "and Luan gets him all to herself."

The other two girls stayed silent, jaws tight.

"Um," Clyde coughed, startling the others, "the wedding is about to begin."

"Best of luck, Linc," Lynn gently slugged the officer in the arm before returning to her place.

"If you ever get divorced…" Ronnie Anne winked as she left.

"I wish you the fondest marriage," Lucy said before departing.

Lincoln stood there before Captain Leni, the other senior officers arrayed behind her. Where was Lori, anyway? Hadn't she been with Leni? Lincoln looked down at his clothes. Leni had done her best to clean and fix them, as well as shine all the metal and leather to a shine. The former cabin boy never thought he'd look so… shiny. His wide-brimmed hat had been cleaned up and adorned with several more feathers. Many members of the crew had given the engaged various golden and silver rings for the perfect pair, and the two had finally decided on a pair of simple bands. Of course, they were still going to go through with the tattoo idea, but they needed something a little more immediate for the actual ceremony. Per his orders, Lincoln wore an elaborate coal design over his left eye, all sinister swirls like the tentacles of a sea monster – Leni's own spin on his Blackeye motif.

"Admiral on deck!" Lola shouted, the announcement driving all gathered to stand ramrod straight.

Lincoln looked over his shoulder and felt his face heat up. Lori was dressed in all her usual finery, as a pirate admiral should be, but she was completely overshadowed by Luan. There wasn't anything particularly splendid about the boatswain's uniform other than the quality. Leni had managed to find fine clothes for her to wear, all in bright yellows and vibrant greens, with silk sashes and shined leather and brass. Lincoln felt his breath hitch at the sight – Luan blushing with her usual grin, wearing the colors of spring, she was the very picture of vitality and youth. He could practically hear her giggling.

He barely registered that the wedding had begun. After the preamble, which was quite different from a traditional, Catholic service, Leni instructed the two to read their vows. They had deviated from tradition a smidge, with Lincoln swearing to treat Luan as an equal partner in all things, and to protect her – and Luan, naturally, said the same. A man treating a woman as an equal? A woman protecting a man? Even amongst their mixed crew, the sailors murmured in surprise, man and woman alike. Lincoln had nearly dropped the rings in his nervousness, to top off the whole thing.

"Do you take this man to be your husband, like, regardless of the circumstances?" Leni asked. It certainly wasn't a Church-ordained wedding, but they couldn't expect the newly-raised Captain to know _all_ the correct phrases. Besides, piracy allowed them a certain degree of freedom.

"I do," Luan murmured, lost in her fiancé's eyes.

"And do you, like, take this woman as your wife, forever and ever?" Leni was giddy with excitement.

"I do," Lincoln sighed, contentedly, equally lost in the boatswain's eyes, "by the grace of God, I do…"

"Then you may kiss the bride!" Leni giggled.

Before Lincoln could move in, Luan wrapped a hand behind his waist and cradled his head, dipping him down for a kiss. He swooned as she led, barely noticing his hat fall off. The combined crews cheered the newly-married couple as Clyde broke open his prized port for them. Tin cups were being filled, sparsely, with watered-down rum as the supply reached its end, but that didn't hamper the celebratory spirit of the crews.

"There's a fleet approaching from starboard!" Lola's voice cut in from the crow's nest, its shrillness cutting through Luna's singing, "They're flying the Union Jack!"

"Harvester!" Lori roared, "Everyone, back to your stations! That lot never did appreciate the sanctity of marriage!"

Captain Leni and her crew sprinted across the gangplank connecting the ships while Bobby and his did the same to theirs. Anchors were lifted and sails unfurled as the vessels tried to pick up speed and move away from one another. Of course the Harvester would wait until a wedding to pop up out of nowhere. It didn't help that their stores were low again, nor did it help that their lack of making a profit was going to make resupplying difficult. They needed a victory here and now just to survive.

The three pirate vessels turned to face the approaching fleet, _Our Fair Lady_ and _Fair Maiden_ staying within a hundred yards of each other on a parallel course while the schooner was further out, working its way behind the enemy. _Royal Hound_ was staying back, preferring to let three frigates carry the day. Each were a match for _Our Fair Lady_ , but they lacked the firepower of _Fair Maiden_. The two pirate vessels turned to present their broadsides, but held their fire until they were sure of the range and shot. The British vessels turned, following each other in a curve to bring their own guns to bear. They fired sequentially, most of their shots falling short, but barely so, such was the skill of their gunners. Immediately after, both pirate vessels opened fire. Lynn's training certainly paid off.

As the battle continued, the small schooner approached almost unnoticed, despite the daylight. The frigates were preoccupied with circling around the two larger vessels, but they let their sharpshooters fire upon the smaller vessel. Leni watched as they neared the circle. She noticed the gap between the first and second ships was significantly wider than the second gap. Large enough that a skilled pilot could squeeze a schooner through…

She pointed it out to her first mate, who stared at her with bug-eyes.

"Quartermaster," Leni grinned as she stared at Clyde, "do you think you can manage it?"

"I don't know, Captain," Clyde furrowed his brow, "it looks like a tight fit."

"Well, Lincoln?" Leni asked, with mischief in her eyes, "You're the expert on navigating _tight spaces_ on this ship. What do you think?"

Luan blushed but couldn't help breaking out in a roar of laughter at the innuendo.

"Let's see, the ship is roughly…" Lincoln ran some quick calculations than estimated the distance between the two ships, "You'd have to time it right, Clyde, but you can make it!"

"Make it happen, quartermaster!" Leni ordered before Clyde could protest. She turned to Lincoln. "Tell the gun crews to load both sides with balls and any incendiaries if we have them. We'll, like, break them bow and stern!"

"I'd just like to point out if we _do_ make it," Clyde interjected, "we'll be coming into fire from our own ships!"

"I'm not worried," Luan grinned, "Lynn's trained both crews. She wouldn't stand for any of those shots to be wasted on the gap _between_ ships!"

Clyde muttered something about crazy women, but it was lost to thunder of cannonade. Lincoln relayed the orders to the gun crew and watched, proudly, as they set about the task efficiently. Lynn might actually compliment him over their training. He stood on deck by the ladderwell, waiting for the right moment. Lead bullets whizzed by, _thunk_ -ing into the deck as marines opened fire on them from both ships. An officer was roaring orders to them on the bow of the second ship. Leni frowned at him, unbracing an elegant wheellock pistol from her chest. She cocked it, leveled it, and fired a single shot. The officer's head snapped back with a splatter of blood, startling his marines and giving those on the other ship pause.

"Nice shot!" Lincoln cackled.

"The Harvester sure is underestimating us," Luan sighed, having procured two muskets and a bag of supplies, "Load while I fire, dear."

"Sure," Lincoln did as she asked, watching with surprise as she picked off the so-called 'sharpshooters' with every shot, "He seems pretty determined to kill us. How can you say he's underestimating us?"

"The man has a fleet that could easily crush us, yet he only sends three ships of _Our Fair Lady's_ tonnage, manned by raw recruits," Luan explained, firing again and sending a marine toppling overboard, "I mean, I know he can only reinforce himself from the colonies, but even then! He could at least send some veterans, after us, instead of a bunch of kids who can't aim."

Another shot and the marines without an officer began hiding behind the deck railing. They were close to the gap.

"Get ready to order the cannons to fire," Luan said, dropping the musket and pulling two grenades from the bag.

She lit the wicks and pitched them up and over the railings of both ships as the bow passed between them. They weren't difficult throws, considering how insanely close they were, and how the frigates only sat a little higher out of the water. Already the second vessel was about to ram into them.

"Fire sequentially!" Lincoln shouted down the ladderwell. At nearly the same instant, he heard the dull _krumps_ of the grenades and the screams of men as shrapnel and ignited oil spread outward.

Then the cannons opened up. The ship about to ram them was slowed just long enough by the lead balls slamming into its bow, and the sudden decrease in speed sent a flaming marine screaming over the edge and slamming into the deck of the schooner. Despite the heat of battle, Luan removed her fine coat and used it to smother the flames. The vanguard vessel to their right was torn up, its rear windows smashed and its rudder destroyed. It was forced to continue in a straight line. Despite the success of the maneuver, the schooner was still rammed in the stern by the second ship, turning it just as it escaped the line. The deck crew ducked as several shots from _Our Fair Lady_ and _Fair Maiden_ whistled overhead, slamming into the hull of the enemy frigate and taking a portion of the schooner's railing off in the process.

"Alright, well we helped," Leni laughed nervously from the deck, "Quartermaster! Get us out of here!"

"Already on it," Clyde assured her, trying to turn the vessel away.

"Clear those gundecks with grapeshot!" Lincoln ordered down the ladderwell.

A few moments later, the guns from the enemy frigate opened up and Lincoln felt the whole ship shudder as a wave of shot and shell spread through the gun ports, splintering support structures and the hull. Lincoln didn't want to imagine what else had been destroyed in the barrage, but the guns didn't fire. All her heard was a braying murmur from below, as if the ship were carrying bovine instead of sailors. Not many bovine, either.

"Status, first mate?" Leni asked, struggling to keep the marines off of their backs with Luan. Despite the efforts, shots were getting closer and grappling hooks were already drawing the schooner in for boarding.

"I'm pretty sure we don't have a crew anymore," Lincoln noted.

"Damn," Leni tsked, "At least we, like, helped relieve some of the pressure on the Admiral."

Looking up, Lincoln saw she was right. The lead ship was limping away, Bobby's vessel already bearing down on it and picking it apart from a safe distance. The rear ship had been forced to swerve to avoid hitting its friend. Now that it was coming around, _Our Fair Lady_ was opening up on it before they could bring their own guns to bear. If the four of them could hold out against the frigate crew long enough, well, it was likely either Lori or Bobby would return to save them.

"Uh-oh," Clyde said, and all eyes turned to where he was pointing.

The officers gasped in horror.

The _Royal Hound_ was moving in with the rest of the fleet.

 **Nobody complain about the sudden marriage, please. Remember Lincoln has adopted a** _ **carpe diem**_ **mentality – he could die and go to Hell at any moment. Also, if you were rooting for the other girls, don't worry. I might stir the pot a little for more plot.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thank you to all the reviewers. I'm glad I didn't disappoint with the random update.**

Luan was keeping the sharpshooters at bay with musket and pistol, but she couldn't reload fast enough. Leni and Clyde managed to get the few remaining crewwomen above deck – all two of them, and heavily injured. Amazingly, Isabella was one of them. Marines were already attaching gangplanks and coming over, led by a burly sergeant who actually looked as if he knew his business. Looking back, Lincoln saw that the other frigates had been put down, either crippled or outright sunk, and Lori and Bobby were coming back for them.

Unfortunately, so was the Harvester.

"Lincoln!" Luan shouted, "Shoot them!"

Lincoln blinked, forgetting his lone pistol, the gift from Clyde. He lifted it, fighting down the nausea that came with killing. He hadn't had any nightmares for a while, but there were dark undercurrents in his thinking that gave him trouble. Another death on his conscience might drive him over the edge.

Looking at Luan, he realized her death would utterly destroy him. He took the shot as soon as he had it.

The sergeant had just set foot on the deck before the lead ball slammed into the meat of his chest and pushed him back into his men. They helped him up and forward. Much to his credit – and Lincoln's horror – the sergeant growled and unsheathed his saber, struggling to ignore the mortal wound. Lincoln quickly unsheathed his own cutlass – Luan's family heirloom. The Royal Marines rushed towards Luan, and she managed to get a final musket shot off before unsheathing her own blade, Leni and Clyde at her sides.

The sergeant was a fully-trained swordsman, a veteran schooled in the art of fencing from one of the world's premiere militaries. Unlike the raw recruits he was forced to command, drawn from the colonies, this man looked a true soldier and seamen. Lincoln wondered if he were a veteran of the War of Spanish Succession, and the idea terrified him. Every thrust was met with a master's parry, every swipe blocked and turned aside. It was all Lincoln could do not to get skewered himself. He wanted to see if the others were alright, but looking away for even a second would spell his doom.

In the end it was the wound in the veteran's chest that evened the odds. His movements grew heavier and leaden, his strikes slower and dumber, until even the novice Lincoln could match him. Seeing himself near defeat, the sergeant got a second wind and began to fight like him old self, but by that point Lincoln was fighting with confidence. Their swords clashed, sparks flew. Lincoln felt the rush Luna had described, as if everything had slowed down just for him. He intercepted every strike, took every opening. Finally, he parried the sergeant's blade before slamming his cutlass' guard into the marine's face, breaking his nose. Guard broken and dazed, the sergeant instinctively made to clutch his face. In that brief instant, Lincoln swung his cutlass downward, digging the blade through the man's collar and lodging it into the meaty bulk of the torso, wedged into the bone of the sternum.

Panting, Lincoln had to brace a foot against the dying man's stomach and use both hands to rip the cutlass from its fleshy sheath. The first mate quickly looked around the assess the situation and was startled to see that the other marines had already been killed, and that Bobby's large vessel was boarding the frigate from the other side, preventing the crew from sparing anymore attackers. Lori's vessel was approaching from the other side, preparing to aid their wounded ally. Every survivor of the schooner crew was staring at Lincoln in bewilderment, even Leni.

Before he could say or do anything to help alleviate the shock, the captain of the final frigate appeared at the deck railing. From the look of resignation on his face, it was clear he was set to lose. With a gesture, he brought several green crewmen forward, struggling to carry large clay pots. Lincoln heard Luan and Leni gasp as the sailors hitched the pots over the railing to shatter on the deck of the schooner. Luan and Leni didn't dare load their weapons. A water-like substance splattered across the deck with every impact, soon covering nearly half the decking. Too late Lincoln noticed the purplish and green reflection it gave in the sunlight – too late he smelled the fumes.

"Burn in Hell, pirate whores!" the captain laughed madly as he was handed a torch and threw it to the schooner. Immediately, all the covered portions ignited. The flames jumped so high that the tattered sails and rigging caught. Soon, all Lincoln could see were flames and he was forced backwards.

He looked around and panicked. The flames had spread faster than he expected, roaring louder than he ever imagined. He couldn't see anything through the blaze and thick smoke, and certainly couldn't find a way to Luan and the others. The fear of them being burnt alive gave him courage at the same time it ripped his heart apart. Remembering their last position, he faced a wall of flame and gulped. What was the worst that could happen?

Luan and Leni were helping the wounded crewwomen to the deck railing when Lincoln jumped through the flames, startling them. Luan gasped and dropped her crewwoman before running over and helping her husband get out of his burning coat and hat, stamping them into the deck much to Leni's dismay; after she had spent so much time fixing them, too…

"Are you crazy?!" Luan demanded, bringing Lincoln in for a hug and returning them to the railing, "You could have been burnt alive!"

"Funny, I thought the same thing about you three," Lincoln chuckled, mirthlessly, "I couldn't find any of you and I panicked."

"Why didn't you just, like, jump over the railing?" Leni asked, "That's what we were planning."

"I, uh…" Lincoln cleared his throat, "I can't swim."

Rather than laugh, the two nodded at the information.

"You'd be surprised how common that is among sailors," Luan said, "Actually, in our crew, I think only Leni and I know how to swim."

"Admiral Lori likes to make sure her officers can, like, survive at sea," Leni beamed, "Lynn's really good."

"Speaking of surviving and being really good," Luan looked Lincoln up and down, "where'd you learn to fight like that?"

"I'm not sure," Lincoln chuckled, "I just did what came naturally, trying not to die."

"You hear that?" the boatswain nudged the Captain, "He says he's a natural; I married a _natural_."

"Lucky you," Leni smiled, then frowned at the flames.

She looked over her shoulder to see Lori's ship approaching. Then the splintering of wood caught everyone's attention and they looked up at the main mast collapsing in the flames. Screaming, they jumped out of the way as it slammed into the railing, jutting from the burning ship like an accusing arm. Lori's vessel couldn't come close enough to board their stricken ally, the burning mast preventing them from moving closer.

"Wait!" Lincoln looked around, "Where's Clyde?!"

The other officers looked around in surprise. How the hell did they overlook his disappearance?

"Clyde!" Lincoln charged through the flames, forcing Luan to scream in panic, "Don't worry, Luan! Make for _Our Fair Lady_! We'll catch up!"

"So heroic," Luan sighed as Leni dragged her to the railing.

"They'll, like, catch up," the Captain assured her, "Now come on! We have to get these girls to safety."

"But Lincoln can't swim," Luan said, "Clyde can't, either!"

"We'll worry about that later!" Leni said, "We're, like, running out of floorboards!"

The Captain and boatswain jumped overboard with their wounded. Lincoln let out a sigh of relief, just catching their departure through the flames and smoke. At least they were safe. Lincoln coughed as smoke filled his lungs, and he struggled to navigate the burning deck. Where would Clyde have run off to? He wasn't stupid, so he'd so the smart thing… Lincoln looked up and saw the fire was largely on the portside, the smoke drifting towards aft. He rushed for the bow, jumping through thin veils of flame when he couldn't go through them and ignoring the burns he accrued.

He almost missed the quartermaster, who was working his way along the deck railing in search of the others. The two met up and clapped arms, grinning.

"You look like you've been through Hell, Linc," Clyde chuckled.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," Lincoln returned the laughter, but it was cut short by the sight of the fire spreading down the ladderwell, "When this damned blaze reaches the powder stores, we're dead for sure!"

"Then we'd better get off while we can," Clyde said, "A small favor, if you don't mind… Could you carry me? I never learned how to swim."

"What?!" Lincoln paled despite his burned features, " _I_ don't know how to swim! I though Lori had all you officers trained!"

"Galley officer, remember?" Clyde sighed, "I'm not even invited to the officer meetings, remember?"

Lincoln growled in frustration but stood on the deck railing.

"W-well, we don't have much choice," he said, "Come on, Clyde! I think I'd rather drown than be blown apart, anyway."

"You're the boss," Clyde muttered, following Lincoln as he jumped overboard.

They splashed into the water at nearly the same time, floundering and kicking towards the surface. A sudden detonation, which Lincoln _felt_ rather than saw, pushed them nearly five meters away in a tumble. Looking through the salty sea, the two saw the unnamed schooner, her spine broken and hull blasted apart, folding in on herself and sinking downward. The two sailors resumed their mad flight to the surface, but only Clyde seemed to be moving upward.

Lincoln began to panic. His soaked clothes felt like lead weights, and his waterlogged boots were anchors. The sword he could never lose hanging from his hip suddenly seemed much heavier and tangled with his frantic legs. He felt himself sink, saw the surface grow further away, and even felt the tug of the schooner taking him with her. Screaming in panic, he saw bubbles rush upward from his lungs, briny water rushing down his throat and making him panic more. His kicks grew more feeble and the light began to fade.

…

Slowly he came out of the void, hearing dull rumbling. The rumbling became more stratified, a series of grainy sounds. He was vaguely aware of vibration, rhythmic and forceful. Numbly he registered the pattern of pressure being applied to him, though he still didn't know what was where. _One, two, three,_ he felt hard pressure, then a long, singular pressure, then back to the three. Slowly the sounds became more clear and the pressure more noticeable.

Then a crystal clear voice rang out.

"Breathe, you son of a bitch!"

And Lincoln felt a very painful slam into his chest.

He shot up, gasping, then vomited water onto the deck of _Our Fair Lady_. He laid there, groaning for a moment, before unscrewing his eyes and taking in the scene. Lynn was crying and laughing at the same time, bringing him in for an embrace and very clearly struggling not to kiss him. Lincoln's mind was still groggy from lack of oxygen, but he tried to process what was happening. Luan stood alone, looking down in disappointment while hugging herself. Clyde was still recovering, possibly having to need resuscitation, also. The two wounded crewwomen were gone, likely taken below. Leni was leaning against the deck railing, looking distant while Lori continued to shout orders to the rest of the crew.

"W-what happened?" Lincoln managed, snapping Lynn out of her delirium.

"Huh?" the gunnery officer realized she was still hugging him and forced herself away from him, "You, uh, almost drowned. I saw you struggling while we were helping the others onboard, so I jumped into rescue you."

"Who rescued Clyde?" Lincoln asked, feeling dizzy.

"Captain Leni, after she dropped off the wounded, "Lynn gave a short bark of laughter, "Don't tell her I said this, but I think she might be the better swimmer."

"You gave me mouth-to-mouth?" Lincoln sat up, rubbing his head.

"Anytime," Lynn laughed before remembering the wedding, "Ah, belay that. I'm just overwhelmed at the moment. Four of my friends nearly died, we've lost a ship, and _Royal Hound_ is riding our ass harder than Nippon steel."

"…Nippon steel?" Lincoln looked at her, askance.

"Oh, right," Lynn grinned, "you've never been to the Orient. Well, there's time aplenty for that later."

She helped him up and brought him to where Luan was standing. Feeling like a third wheel, she quickly left to make sure Clyde was alright. Lincoln saw how Luan avoided looking at him, but he didn't care. He felt overwhelmed and brought her in for a hug, startling the older girl.

"I'm so glad you're safe," Lincoln murmured into the curve of her neck.

"L-Linc," Luan blushed. She wanted to return the embrace, but she gently undid it instead, much to Lincoln's sorrow. "I'm sorry, I just… I failed."

"What?" Lincoln asked, "Failed? How?"

"I should have gone with you," Luan sighed, "I should have carried you. At the very least, I should have been the one to rescue you!"

"Luan," Lincoln used his thumb to wipe the tear that had slipped past his wife's guard, "You saved a woman's life – a woman who would have died if you had gone after me. It doesn't matter who saved me, though I'm glad they did. All I could think of when I was sinking was never seeing you again. It scared me worse than all my other nightmares."

Luan blushed vividly now, but there was a glowing joy in it at having heard those words. She giggled.

"Geeze, Linc," she moved closer to him, "you always know the perfect thing to say to a girl. You sure your father was a _priest_?"

"I've heard he was a sinner," Lincoln chuckled, sharing a brief, yet powerful kiss with his wife, "before he was a saint."

Luan could only let out a content sigh.

"I know the marriage is new," Lucy interrupted, startling the two, "but we are in the middle of a situation, here. The Admiral is holding an officer's meeting and wants you there."

"We're not ship officers, anymore," Lincoln pointed out.

"We all have to work if we want to eat," Lucy gave a small smile, "or would you prefer going back to your old job?"

"Okay, let's go," Lincoln sighed, entwining his fingers with Luan's.

The table was splintered and riddled with shot, and broken glass coated the deck from the shattered windows. There were almost no chairs as they had all been shot to pieces. The officers all stood, anyway. Lisa had already laid out her charts and maps, muttering things in Italian that Lincoln could almost understand from his knowledge in Latin. Almost. It was mostly stuff about weather and astronomy.

"It seems," the young navigator lisped, "that the Harvester is attempting to drive us into the Devil's Triangle."

The officers began muttering prayers, which startled Lincoln. He had been convinced he was the only who prayed – and even he had been growing infrequent.

"Is he mad?" Lori asked, "Whatever happens to ships in this area will surely happen to his, too."

"I've observed that our enemy does not seem to care about losses," Lisa explained, "Despite being of considerable rank in the Royal Navy, with a dozen – correction – several ships at his disposal, he only ever sent them against us in small groupings. To slow us down, surely, but even so the losses he's suffered were perfectly avoidable."

"The man always was a heartless bastard," Lori shuddered, "Can we break away and limp back to Tortuga?"

"I'm afraid not, Admiral," Lana spoke up, having adjusted to her role as the new boatswain well. Luan nodded, approvingly, at her former protégé. "The battle damaged much of the ship. Repairs will take a while, and until they're done, we can't move too quick. We're taking on water with every meter, and the sails have been shredded."

"Along with Captain Bobby's ship as damaged as it is," Luna added, "it'll take a miracle for us to just stay ahead of his fleet. If we make any turn, he'll easily catch up to us."

"Which is likely why he's driving us to dangerous waters," Lisa concurred, "He wants us to change course so he can intercept us."

"Recommendations?" Lori asked her gathered officers.

"If we change course, _Our Fair Lady_ will be overrun within the hour – _Fair Maiden_ even sooner," Luna explained, "If we head straight, we have at least two hours before the bastards catch us."

"And with Luan's help, two hours should be enough time to finish some repairs," Lana said, "They won't help much, but they should improve our speed some."

"Of course, by then, we'll already be in the Devil's Triangle," Lola pointed out. She might have only been the new cabin girl and manned the crow's nest, but she had no problem voicing her opinion to her superiors. Lincoln found he admired that.

"I believe most of what we've heard of this region is simple hyperbole," Lisa said, but only Lucy and Lincoln understood the word. The navigator sighed in irritation. "Exaggeration."

"Ships go missing all the time there," Leni spoke up for the first time since Lincoln had seen her last, "There's, like, all kinds of stories from survivors of sea monsters, daemons from the sky, and rogue waves, whirlpools, and water spouts that boggle the mind."

"As I said," Lisa nodded, "hyperbole. We should worry more about the Harvester, and less about old sailors' superstitions."

The officers shifted uncomfortably at the prospect of offending the Powers by Lisa's lack of fear. The navigator sighed. She had expected the behavior from most of them, but she had hoped Lucy and Leni would have been more rational.

The next hour was a flurry of activity aboard the two remaining ships, Lincoln rushing to support Luan and Lana in repairing the leaking hull of _Our Fair Lady_ , while Lynn had her crews repair gun racks and heft cannons back onto their tracks. Lucy helped manage the crew while Luna kept the ship moving alongside the stricken _Fair Maiden_. Lola swung from loose riggings from one ship's masts to the next, carrying messages between Bobby and Lori as the state of things. Apparently, the ship-of-the-line had not taken as much damage as they feared, but was still a heavier, slower vessel. Bobby had sails to spare and the two vessels sailed perilously close to try and exchange the cloth while moving.

When Lincoln returned to the deck, sweaty and with blisters along his hands, he looked up and saw the sky. The beautiful, tropical weather had turned sour, quickly. Soon everyone was forced to acknowledge it, their hats blown off by gale winds as clouds blotted out the sun. The seas grew choppy and, after nearly smashing into _Fair Maiden_ , Luna was forced to steer further away. It hardly mattered since they would have to furl the sails or risk breaking the mast. Lola stayed at her post in the crow's nest, battered by the wind and rain, struggling to watch the enemy fleet through the thickening sheets of rain.

Fog settled across the water, drifting across the decks and making the crews anxious. Lincoln heard Lisa mutter something about cold, northern rain mixing with the warm, tropical waters, but she didn't sound to convinced. It became impossible to see much, and Luna looked a nervous wreck as she lost sight of their allied vessel. They were moving with the sea, even as the sails had been fastened shut. The wind became so fast, so loud, that the whipping noise drowned out most orders and ripped hats and turbans off; one crewwoman lost her coat from a convenient gust slipping into it, leaving her shivering and soaked on the deck. Lightning cracked and illuminated an otherworldly scene that made several crew members scream in terror while Luna cursed loudly, turning hard on the helm.

Giant columns of water dominated the seascape, only visible through the lightning strikes. Everyone hung onto something – anything – as if it would protect them from their ship being smashed apart by nature's fury. The ship rocked about and spun, pitching crewmembers every way. One nearly toppled over the railing she was clinging to, while Lincoln slipped and slid down the shifting deck until Luan caught him. They hung onto each other, trying not to panic at the unnatural storm.

Then, out of the mist, looming high over their vessel, the _Royal Hound_ came in from port. It happened suddenly, a looming dark spot in a dark gray background suddenly taking shape less than ten meters from them.

"Brace!" somebody shouted, too late.

With all the speed lent to the British vessel by the choppy oceans throwing them around, the _Royal Hound_ slammed straight into _Our Fair Lady_ , the reinforced bow striking the portside hull perfectly in the middle. The British were clearly as startled as the pirates, for many of their crew pitched violently overboard at the sudden impact. The much larger man-o-war simply shattered the beloved frigate, the speed and force of the sea and wind forcing both ships to collide with meteoric ferocity. The Royal Navy vessel was not spared, however, its bow splintering inward even as it cut through its enemy like a knife.

Everyone was thrown to the slippery deck and Lincoln heard Lola scream as the mast shattered and tumbled onto the British deck. Lincoln felt himself sliding further and further away from Luan as the deck dipped downward. The boatswain, herself, had been closer to the rip and fell between the shattering planks and the _Royal Hound_. Lincoln let out a scream of horror at the prospect of losing her, struggling to find purchase on the slick decking.

"Look out!" someone screamed.

Lincoln looked up in time to see the lead mast of the _Royal Hound_ tumble over their railing, snapped in half by the frigate's own mast spearing into it. Lincoln could only gape as the massive timber construct twisted towards his half of the ship. It was traveling fast, but its relative size made it appear to be gracefully dipping. Lincoln closed his eyes and felt the impact finished the stressed decking off. He felt the planks come apart beneath him, nails twisting out of the wood from the force of the impact. Opening his eyes, he had just enough time to register a portion deck railing tumble towards him before it filled up his vision.

Then everything went black for the second time that day.

 **Besides some Redshirts, I'm pretty sure everyone's fine. Plot armor is the sturdiest substance in the universe.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Get ready for pot-stirring.**

Luan's eyes fluttered open. She winced at the tropical sunrise, the brightness hurting her head. She gripped it, realizing it was wrapped in bandages. Groaning, the boatswain realized she had been stripped down to her smallclothes, her body bandaged with cloth wrappings where they were needed. Her right leg was bound in a splint. As her senses returned, Luan realized she was lying on sand and could see her clothes drying on a line tied between two trees, alongside a…

She inhaled sharply, seeing a tattered British uniform hanging from the line. She looked around desperately for a weapon, but there were none. It hurt to move, anyway, and even lifting her head took effort. Finally, she sighed in resignation, accepting her fate as a prisoner. She hoped Lincoln was alright, and while she didn't need a man to come rescue her, she certainly would swoon if showed up, dashing as always, and killed the entire Royal Navy just to save her.

If she had survived falling between two splintering ships, she had no doubt her husband had survived. Luan looked at her left hand, making sure the band was still there. She smiled, appreciatively, that whoever held her prisoner had at least respected her marriage. She heard the captor approach and turned her head to see him.

He was young – probably her age, maybe a little younger. Like the boatswain, his body was riddled with scars, the most severe of which were bandaged, and like Luan he wore only smallclothes. He hadn't seen her and set about checking their clothes for dampness. She must have been out for a while, for the clothes were dry, and he set about removing them. His curly brown locks bobbed as he slipped into his breeches and shirt, whistling the whole time. Luan was startled watching the marine – at least, she assumed so based on his uniform – folded her clothes. He turned, obviously to put them beside her, and yelped at her being awake.

Then he blushed a brilliant crimson in embarrassment, which forced a smile on Luan's lips.

"Well, well, well," she turned the smile into a smirk, "you act like you've never seen a half-naked woman before."

"I-I-I…" the boy stammered with a curious accent, handing her clothes to her and turning around, "Forgive me, miss. I, um, didn't mean to – that is – I didn't _want_ to damage your honor by undressing you, but you'd catch sick in those soaked clothes. I-I tried to find a blanket, too, but-"

"You're awfully considerate," Luan laughed, sitting up and setting about forcing her clothes on, despite the pain, "considering you tried to kill us."

"Oh, well, that," the boy chuckled, "I had orders; I figured you did, too. Far as I can tell, it's just the two of us out here."

"Is that we you undressed me?" Luan joked. Seeing the horrified expression on the boy's face, she felt bad. "It was a joke, calm down. You don't seem the sort to take advantage of a woman."

"I assure you, I'm not," the boy stood taller, almost looking like a soldier in his half-uniform, "When I woke up, after the wreck, I had washed ashore. I searched for nearly a day on this island for someone else – and you're all I've found."

"There's no one else?" Luan asked, worried.

"I haven't searched the whole island, but it's quite small," the marine said, "I'm sure there were other survivors, though – they likely washed up on the other islands."

" _Other_ islands?" Luan asked as she finished dressing.

"I've only walked a few miles around the coastline, maybe a third of the shore, in total," the boy explained, "but I've seen several different islands in that walk. I think we washed up on a chain."

"There were no islands!" Luan challenged, remembering the horrifying incident.

"It was pretty stormy," the boy shrugged, "maybe we just didn't see them?"

"What's your name, anyway?" Luan asked dragging herself to a nearby palm tree so she could prop herself against it, "Also, where are you from? You sound Irish."

"My name's Benjamin Hill, but my friends just call me Benny," the marine said, "Since we'll be here together awhile, I imagine we'll be friendly sooner or later."

"Oh?" Luan raised an eyebrow, suggestively, and smirked at him.

"I-I don't mean like that!" Benny assured her, "You're married, aren't you? I'd never try that with a married woman!"

"Alright, I believe you," Luan giggled, "Geeze, you get worked up, easily."

"To answer your other question," Benny said after calming down, "My family is Irish, but my ma was born in America, while my pa came over from Ireland. Soldiering was the family business, but I thought I'd mix it up and try it at sea. Pa wasn't too pleased."

"Believe me, I know all about family businesses and disappointments," Luan laughed, bitterly, "Where are my weapons?"

"Well, you only had a sword on you," Benny said, "I have it with my musket and cutlass. Don't get me wrong, I like you, but I don't exactly _trust_ you. My parents always told me never to trust women – and mistrusting pirates is supposed to be common sense."

"Well, I can't fault you with the second one," Luan shrugged, "So, what do you wanna do?"

"Pardon?" Benny asked.

"I can't move, and I get the feeling you're not going to leave me to die after putting so much effort into saving me – thanks, by the way – so what did you want to do until I can walk?"

"I… I don't know," the boy confessed, "Nobody's ever really asked me what I want to do before. I usually just do what my pa or my sergeant told me to."

"They're not here, now," Luan pointed out, "and I'm not going to tell you how to live – that's not how pirates do things."

"I guess we just sit here, for now," Benny shrugged, "I found a barrel of salted fish, mostly intact, so we should be good on food for a while."

"I am not sitting here for that long!" Luan snapped, "Surely there's something you do in your free time?"

"…Free time?"

Luan cursed loudly in Dutch before sighing and reclining against the palm tree further.

"At least sit down," she patted the sand next to her. Benny looked at the spot before reluctantly sitting down. After a few minutes of silence, Luan said "Tell me a joke."

"A joke?" Benny actually grinned, "What kind of joke?"

"A funny one," Luan smirked.

"Alright," the marine cleared his throat, "A Hessian, a Swede, and a Turk walk into a bar…"

…

Lincoln had been walking for what felt like hours. He had woken up on the shore of an island, tangled in driftwood which had probably saved his life while he was unconscious. Besides a splitting headache and a nasty bruise – and a few ripped-open blisters – he was fine. Walking along the shore had been a grim reminder of his fate, quite at odds with the pleasant tropical weather. Bloated corpses littered the sand, though Lincoln checked each of them – pirate and Brit alike – for survivors. He wasn't expecting to find any, but when he did he laughed joyously.

"Lynn!" he dug her out of the pile of wooden scrap she was buried under, feeling immense relief when she started moving and groaning. "I've got out."

After dragging her out of the wreckage, he waited patiently for her to gather herself. Eventually, she came around, looking up into his face with bewilderment. She immediately gripped his cheeks and brought him in for a kiss, which Lincoln was too shocked to stop. Then Lynn shoved him away, looking horrified.

"I-I'm awake?!" she asked.

"Duh," Lincoln said, picking himself up.

"Oh, I thought I was dead, or about to die," the gunnery officer chuckled, anxiously, "Figured I'd, uh, get one last kiss before I go. Sorry, Linc. I-I shouldn't have, anyway. You're married, now."

"It only happened yesterday," Lincoln sighed, "I suppose it hasn't sunk in for you, yet. At least, I think it was yesterday. We could have been out for days, actually."

"Hey, Linc," the first mate turned when he heard the panic creeping into Lynn's voice, "I-I can't move my legs."

"What?" Lincoln rushed to her side.

"I can barely move my big toe!" the gunnery officer started breathing heavily, on the cusp of hyperventilating, "Oh God, not this!"

"Calm down, Lynn!" Lincoln struggled to sound confident, "If you can move your toes, that's a good sign. What happened to you, anyway? I thought you were below deck."

"I was," the gunnery officer paled, looking close to vomiting, "I saw that big bastard crash through _Our Fair Maiden_ right in front of me – took half my surviving gun crewmates with her! A cannon spun of its rack and clipped me in the back. I'm lucky I was squashed. I heard a lot of screams, even Luan's, which is weird since she was on-deck."

"She fell through the crack made by _Royal Hound_ ," Lincoln gulped, "Did you see if she lived?"

"I was sort of screaming in agony," Lynn admitted, reluctantly, "Have you ever been 'tapped' by a thousand pounds of metal? Even the slightest kiss hurts a helluva lot!"

"Yes, actually," Lincoln rubbed his eye, unconsciously, at the memory.

"But, uh, I'm sure she's alive," the gunnery officer tried to fix the situation, "I mean, it's not the first sinking ship she's survived." Lynn facepalmed at her own words; referencing the schooner might have been premature, and referring to the murder of her father was certainly in bad taste.

"She's tough," Lincoln agreed, but didn't look convinced. Lynn dragged herself to him and gripped his hand in hers.

"She's tougher than the nails she used to hold that old ship together for years," she assured him, "Believe me, if we survived, _she_ survived."

"Where is she, then?" Lincoln helped Lynn sit up.

"Probably on one of those other islands," the gunnery officer pointed out.

For the first time Lincoln saw the archipelago he was in. As he searched the beach, he never thought to search the sea. Odd, considering there was still likely one ship in their fleet left intact. Hunting for the _Fair Maiden's_ sails, though, he was disappointed. Only islands decorated the now-calm horizon, misty from distance.

"They might as well be on the other side of the world," Lynn muttered, focusing on moving her toes. Lincoln worried for her, but also held confidence she could recover. It wasn't unheard of, for a paralyzed individual to heal… just uncommon. Still, if anyone could come back from that, it was the cheeky gunnery officer.

Lincoln helped her to her feet and, seeing she was unable to move anything beyond her toes, he forced her onto his back, which she loudly protested. Seeing her thighs hugging his torso and running through his arms, though, made her quiet down some. She was glad it was impossible for Lincoln to turn his head around and see her blush. She silently cursed herself; Lincoln was married to one of her oldest friends! Having such thoughts was a betrayal of trust…

"Why weren't you on Bobby's ship?" Lincoln asked.

"Huh?" Lynn snapped out of her thoughts, "Oh, that. I taught Francisco everything I know; I knew he could handle it."

"And the gunnery officer who replaced you on _Our Fair Lady_ couldn't?"

"Truth be told, I sort of blanked when the Brits moved in," Lynn sighed, "I was _supposed_ to transfer to your ship after the wedding, but we expected there to be more time for the transition, and when everyone started running I wasn't sure if I needed to go to Captain Bobby's ship or yours. Before I could figure it out, both ships were breaking away."

Lincoln carried her in silence for a little while before chuckling.

"So…" he drawled, "You taught Francisco _everything_ you know?"

"Shut up!" Lynn hit his head, but giggled, "I certainly haven't kissed him, if that's what you're suggesting." She stayed silent for a little bit before inhaling, clearly building up the courage to ask something. "Why did you marry Luan?"

"What?" Lincoln turned his head to try and look at her, "Because I loved her."

"I thought you also loved…" the gunnery officer cleared her throat, "Something must have happened. I mean, you were closer to Lucy than you were to the bosun."

"We got to know each other," Lincoln looked forward to hide his blush, "and, um… well, there was my birthday."

"No way!" Lynn growled, "She didn't, did she?! That wh-!" The gunnery officer struggled to regain composure, not wanting to insult her friend's wife – or her friend, for that matter. Exhaling slowly, she growled. "No disrespect, Linc, but don't you think you two might have rushed into the marriage?"

"I know you're jealous, Lynn, but Luan is my wife now," Lincoln said, sternly, "Get used to it."

"So maybe I am jealous," Lynn snapped, "but now I'm trying to be a friend to you _and_ Luan. You joined our crew less than a year ago, and in that time you spent most of your time trying to choose between Lucy and me – don't deny it! Suddenly, you spend a few weeks with Luan, sleep with her, and then you instantly decide to get married? Face it, Linc – you and Luan didn't think this through."

"We could have died," Lincoln muttered, "I couldn't stand the idea of us _not_ being bound before that happened. Besides, there's more to it than that. She trusts me, Lynn. She trusted me with her family heirloom before she ever showed romantic interest. She loves me."

"So do I," Lynn whispered, so quiet Lincoln almost didn't hear it, "So does Lucy. Hell, I think even Ronnie Anne loves you."

"What? Ronnie Anne?" Lincoln forced a laugh, "I've hardly spoken to her."

"You never needed words to impress women, Linc," Lynn sighed, "Your actions are more than enough to enchant women."

"It hardly matters," Lincoln grumbled, "I'm married now."

"At a mere fifteen-years-old," Lynn noted, sarcasm in her voice.

"Lynn!" Lincoln warned.

"Is it an open marriage?" Lynn asked, using a hand to turn his head to a sight on the beach.

"What the hell?!" Lincoln shouted, eyes wide as he nearly dropped the gunnery officer, "Luan?!"

"Lincoln?" the boatswain yawned as her husband approached, opening her eyes in surprise. She grinned until he saw his look of betrayal. She then realized Benny had fallen asleep, cuddling against her in a very informal fashion, grinning like an idiot. "Th-this isn't what it looks like! Benny rescued me, and-"

" _Benny_?!" Lincoln repeated in disbelief, his voice jolting the marine awake, "You're on a first-name basis with him?"

"Oh, don't act like that," Luan rolled her eyes, "We fell asleep telling jokes. He's really funny, you know."

"Oh, I'll bet," Lincoln glared at the marine.

" _This_ is the guy you married?" Benny scoffed, smirking a challenge at the first mate, "He's still a boy."

"Careful," Lincoln seethed, "Those are dueling words, and you don't want to duel me – just ask the Royal Marine sergeant I sent to Hell yesterday."

"Lincoln!" Luan snapped.

"Oh, so you'll chide him for defending himself, but not your new beau?" Lynn raised an eyebrow over Lincoln's shoulder.

"He's not my new-! Wait, what the hell?" Luan glared at her husband, "Why are you giving Lynn piggyback rides?"

"I happen to be paralyzed," Lynn sniffed, "Lincoln is behaving as a proper gentleman, while you're _literally_ sleeping with the enemy!"

"Oh, so he cuddled up to me after we fell asleep!" Luan scoffed, "There's not a lot of comfortable things to sleep on, you know."

"I can't _believe_ you're defending letting another man touch you!" Lincoln rolled his eyes.

"Oh, so now that we're married, I can't even _touch_ another man?" Luan challenged, "While you, what, get to wrap your arms around any girl you please?"

"For the record, I can't even feel his arms at the moment," the gunnery officer interjected.

"I'm not your property, Lincoln!" Luan finished.

"I never said you were," Lincoln frowned, letting his hurt show, "I just… I never expected you to be so _casual_ with other men."

"I told you, you should have waited longer than a few weeks to decide on marriage," Lynn sighed.

"Lynn!" Lincoln and Luan growled in unison.

"Wait, you only courted for a few weeks?!" Benny found himself laughing, "You realize you two entered a holy contract to be bound _for life_ , right? What if another lad or lass had come along that you liked more?"

"Actually, Linc here already had four after him," Luan muttered.

"Lucky lad," Benny reevaluated the first mate. _Four_ girls?!

"Well, we thought we were going to die, and we didn't want to just…" Lincoln trailed off, realizing how that sounded.

"Oh, so you just married me because we were going to die?!" Luan snapped, tears in her eyes. Lincoln felt Lynn flinch with him.

"No!" Lincoln argued back, "I married you because I loved you!"

They stared at each other, unsure of how to proceed. Lynn and Benny stayed quiet, unwilling to trigger another shouting match.

"You still have my sword," Luan noted, smiling sadly.

"I'll carry it to the grave, as long as you let me," Lincoln said, softly.

Luan turned away and Lincoln propped Lynn up against the same tree. He avoided looking at his wife, choosing instead to glare at the marine. Benny was prepared to return the glare until he realized Lincoln was armed, and he was not.

"I don't suppose you've come across anyone else?" Lincoln asked.

"I must have walked half the coastline," Benny sighed, "Only one I've found is Luan."

"I walked about a third and only found Lynn and you two," Lincoln muttered.

"Well, we've still got…" Benny counted on his fingers, but frowned when he couldn't figure it out.

"A sixth of the coastline left unchecked," Lincoln finished for him, "Since we were able to walk so much in less than a day, I'm sure if there were survivors, they'll find us before long."

"Where'd you learn math?" Benny asked, eying the Frenchman with suspicion.

"My father was a priest," Lincoln shrugged, "I had a privileged upbringing."

"How did a priest's son wind up working for pirates?" the marine asked, bewildered.

"That's my doing," Lynn grinned, "I snagged him with my _feminine wiles_."

"I actually thought she was a boy, at first," Lincoln smirked at Lynn's indignant muttering and Luan's giggle, "I was pretty bright-eyed; wanted to serve aboard a ship desperately. I also didn't know they were pirates until we were getting shot at."

"And you two?" Benny asked, "I never understood why women thought it smart to pick up arms…"

"That attitude, for one," Lynn muttered, "I was a street urchin. Captain Lori asked us to join her, so we did. It was better than becoming a street prostitute."

"Captain Lori killed my father," Luan said, "then she showed me how much she's changed."

"Huh," Benny furrowed his brow, unable to see how that made any sense.

After a while longer of silence, Benny and Lincoln mutually agreed that they should search the nearby jungle for firewood and other resources since it was late in the day. Benny suggested he stay behind as a guard, but Lincoln assured him as long as the two girls were armed, they could defend themselves. In truth, the first mate didn't trust the Royal Marine. Or Lynn, for that matter; she'd likely try and start something. If he weren't in denial, Lincoln might admit he also didn't trust Luan alone with the strange man she had started cuddling with shortly after meeting…

The two men were torn between searching for dry wood – a difficult task in the humid tropics – and keeping an eye on each other. Benny had his musket, for all the good it would do him since Lincoln was sure any gunpowder the soldier had with him was ruined by the ocean. Still, with its long bayonet fixed at the end, it was a formidable spear with considerable reach. Benny was also an Irishman, apparently, and Lincoln had heard stories of their ferocious battle prowess.

Seeing the lanky teen, though, Lincoln had doubts as to how ferocious he was.

"Alright, lad, let's skip the cat and mouse, shall we?" Benny sighed after thirty minutes of collecting wood, tossing what he'd gathered into a small pile and removing his musket to join the sticks, "You're angry at me for cuddling your wife. You think I'm going to try and bed her, or something."

They weren't questions, and Benny was rolling his shoulders. Lincoln dropped his sticks and removed his sword belt, giving his own shoulders a roll.

"Did you cuddle with her on purpose?" Lincoln asked.

"Truth be told," Benny smiled, sadly, "yeah. I felt bad, 'cause she was married, but I can't help loving her. I see why you wanted to marry her so quick, lad – but you aren't the right fit."

"Excuse me?" Lincoln realized they were circling around, drawing closer together on a spiral path. Soon they'd be in each other's faces. "I love her, and she loves me."

"But you also love Lynn, don't you?" the Irishman asked, "And probably a few other lasses, too. Don't pretend you don't think you rushed into this."

"I don't need to take romantic advice from some American toady for the Brits who's been trying to kill me _and_ my wife for the last year," Lincoln growled, then added, "And is now in love with her, to boot!"

"Have you considered getting a divorce?" Benny asked, "I mean, I hear pirate law is quite… progressive."

"Divorce!" Lincoln scoffed, "A fellow Catholic should know better than to suggest such a thing!"

"I ain't Catholic, lad," Benny smirked, "My Pa's a Protestant, but hates the English. Only one place left in the Empire for our breed, then."

"Either way, I believe in the sanctity of marriage," Lincoln stood straighter, flustering as Benny laughed, "Just because I'm a pirate doesn't mean I lack morals!"

"It's just funny to me that you'll stick to Catholicism when it means trapping Luan in an unhappy marriage, but will abandon Christian teachings when they conflict with piracy!" Benny laughed.

Lincoln stopped.

"Unhappy marriage?" he muttered, "Did… did Luan say something to you?"

Benny actually quit laughing, looking sympathetic.

"No, she didn't," the marine said, "and that's part of the problem. See, I know the early signs of an unhappy marriage – my Pa remarried after my Ma died, and it's not going so well."

"And we're showing these signs?" Lincoln asked in disbelief.

"A few," Benny nodded, "See, newlyweds, yeah? I imagine as soon as you were married, you two were happier than you ever had been in the whole world. Well, how many men has Luan actually gotten to know?"

"She's talked about having a few… engagements in port," Lincoln mumbled.

"But nothing serious, yeah?" Benny asked, "All she's met is her father, you, and a number of scallywags in port who only wanted to bed her or kill her. She's only known two kind men in her whole life, one of which she's related to. Suddenly she meets me and I'm not trying to kill or bed her – I am a nice guy, even if I don't seem it right now – and her and I hit it off so well, it seemed like both of us forgot she was married."

"And that's proof our marriage is bad?" Lincoln demanded, getting angry. Benny shook his head.

"I'm saying it's a bad sign when a woman married yesterday hits it off with a man and talks with him for hours, never once bringing up her husband," the marine explained, "It's not uncommon later in life for women to talk to men without mentioning their husbands, or men with women about wives, but newlyweds? They can't shut up about their beloveds!"

Lincoln mulled all that over, growing worried. They were standing perilously close to each other, now, but neither of them was tensed up, anymore. Suddenly, Lincoln connected a savage right hook into the unsuspecting marine's face, sending him sprawling. Benny looked up, shocked, though whether it was at Lincoln's attack or the fact the first mate wasn't finishing the job, was unclear.

"That," Lincoln let his rage simmer out in a controlled breath, "was for cuddling with my wife."

"I-I suppose I earned that," Benny muttered, still rubbing the cheek. Lincoln helped him off the ground. Benny briefly contemplated striking the pirate, but let his own anger ebb away; he really had deserved the punch.

"Would you treat Luan right?" Lincoln asked, focusing on picking up sticks after replacing his belt, "If something were to happen to me, I mean?"

"Absolutely," Benny said without hesitation, then blushed in embarrassment, happy Lincoln wasn't watching him, "Listen, I know I said all that stuff, but… please don't divorce her just because I've gone and stirred up trouble. It'd break Luan's heart…"

"I'm not stupid enough to hurt Luan just because you said some things," Lincoln scoffed, "I will, however, talk things out with her. If she thinks we've moved too fast, that she's stuck, well… I can't, in good conscience, make her stay with me. Even if marriage is sacred, and God forgive me for saying this, it doesn't matter if Luan's unhappy."

"You're very noble for a pirate," Benny remarked, begrudgingly, "far nobler than most men I knew in the service. Even our officers are cold men."

"So I've heard," Lincoln chuckled.

The two men faced each other, weapons slung and arms filled with sticks. They shared a smile before looking up at the sky, noticing the fading light.

"We should get back," Benny said.

"Aye," Lincoln agreed, "The ladies must be bored out of their minds, laid up as they are."

…

As soon as the men had left, Luan and Lynn sulked. After a while, Luan managed to get over her dissatisfaction and anger enough to show concern.

"Are you really paralyzed?" she asked, softly, "Or is it one of your stunts?"

"Pretending to be paralyzed would be an awful joke," Lynn shot back, "Sounds more like something you'd do."

"Fair enough," Luan shrugged. To be honest, she probably would pretend to be paralyzed if the situation was ripe for a joke.

"I'm sorry about stirring up a mess back there, but…" Lynn looked at the sea, feeling tears in her eyes, "A lot of things aren't going well for me."

"Because I have Lincoln?" Luan asked. She wanted to let her jealous rage show, but Lynn was a friend and fellow crewmate in need of emotional support. Try as she might, the bosun couldn't bear ill will.

"That's part of it," Lynn sighed, drearily, "I was the first to meet him. I brought him into the crew. I… love him. Then, out of nowhere, you swoop in and spend a few weeks with him, sleep with him – like you do with men _every_ time you're in port! – and snatch him for marriage!"

"I don't sleep with _that_ many men…" Luan tried to mumble, but Lynn kept going, the effort not to cry straining her voice.

"I have a crush on one of my gunners, Francisco – I won't deny it – but even around him I never completely forget Lincoln. On the other hand, as soon as I see Lincoln, I forget about _everything_!" Lynn ran her hands through her hair, gripping it in anger, "I thought I could forget him for Francisco, but it just seems impossible. Then he rescues me, like something out of a fairy tale! We run into you two and you just seem so… natural with Luan. With Lincoln, the two of you seem stilted and rushed – you look like both of you are trying so hard – but with this Benny bloke, you're so at ease and comfortable and happy. It angers me, so much, because I feel like you're not only lying to Lincoln, but that you're lying to yourself, and it feels like both of you are making yourselves miserable being with each other rather than the people you _really_ love!"

Lynn let out a shaky breath, trying to recollect herself. Luan was stunned to silence, only able to gape at the paraplegic. The boatswain flushed in shame as she realized she was having regrets after meeting Benny. She had waited so long for a nice man, and when Lincoln appeared he was simply perfect in every regard, but had that been an illusion? When she met Benny, truth be told, he was even _more_ perfect – he had so many similar qualities to Lincoln. Benny was quiet, thoughtful, funny, and intelligent, yet whenever Lincoln was around he put up an annoying act of bravado and snobbishness, like every Brit in the service. Luan now realized he was being defensive, trying to meet the challenge for male supremacy over a mate like a pair of cocky birds. The realization Benny loved her, wanted her, made her chest beat faster and her face flush. The realization she returned the feelings made her clam up in guilt and shame.

"And now," Lynn couldn't keep the sob from her voice, "now I can't walk. I can't play tennis, or run, or do any of the tricks and stunts I love to do. I can't face my gun crews. How can you lead if you can't even stand? No one respects a cripple. I can't stand the look anyone gives me – that damned pity! Least of all from Lincoln, or you."

"I wish I knew what to say," Luan said, softly, "I usually have a joke or some trick that helps a crewmate with their sorrow, but this… this is so much, Lynn. But you're wrong."

"Wrong about what?" the gunnery officer snapped, rounding on Luan and stopping when she saw the look on her face.

"Your crews will always respect you, no matter what," Luan assured her, "and it's impossible for any of us – not me, and certainly not Lincoln – to look at you with pity, because we _don't_ pity you. You know why, Lynn?"

Lynn shook her head, not trusting her voice.

"Because you're too strong to pity," the boatswain smiled, "None of us has any doubt that if this weakness can be overcome, you'll be the one to do it, and if it can't be overcome, that you won't stop trying anyway. You never give up, Lynn. You're an inspiration to the crew."

"Y-you really mean that?" Lynn cleared her throat, smiling a little.

"Of course I do!" Luan laughed, wrapping an arm around her friend's shoulder, "Do you know how many times crewwomen have come to me with their personal problems, and no jokes or japes have ever helped? When that happens, I point to _you_. I say, 'See that officer? Nothing short of death will keep her down, and she's barely a woman! If she can do it, we can do it!' I've said this dozens of times, hundreds even, I swear."

"I'm sorry," Lynn frowned.

"About what?" Luan asked.

"About Lincoln, and all that stuff I said," the gunnery officer sighed, "Here I am accusing you of whoring around, and you go out of your way to make me feel better."

"Don't mention it," Luan leaned back against the tree, looking at the sky, "I am a bad wife, and a whore."

"You're not," Lynn said.

"I sleep with guys before I really get to know them," Luan muttered, "and now I went and stole one from my friends. It was underhanded; Lincoln's pretty naïve, so I had a hunch he'd up and marry whoever slept with him first. Now that I have him, though, just as you've said, I've gone and fallen for another man…"

Lynn stayed silent, ashamed she had called her friend out earlier, but also knowing she had told the truth – more abrasively and crueler than necessary, but a hard truth. Luan was a perfect match for Benny and vice versa, while Lincoln was only a decent fit. It was the best for both of them to call it quits, rather than try and make the best of the situation.

"You need to tell him," Lynn said, at last.

"I know," Luan sighed, "I'm sure it'll come up sooner or later. I know he has his own doubts, especially now, and we've got nothing but time to discuss it."

They sat there in silence, waiting for the men to return and the uneasy future to unfold.

 **Alright, so while this chapter is a little long, it's kind of boring. There's a lot of romantic conflict, but not really anything pirate-related or adventurous. I introduced Benny and made him and Luan an instant hit (lazy writing? Maybe). Also, Lynn's crippled as a plot device because, well, plot I guess.**

 **Funny enough, the next chapter will follow other survivors. I think it will be the only chapter besides the Bobby/Ronnie Anne one that** _ **isn't**_ **centered on Lincoln.**


	16. Chapter 16

**Have a little faith, guys. It's not lazy writing – there's a plot going on, I swear, and if things seem rushed, that's part of it. The marriage isn't over yet (in fact, I'm still on the fence about ending it at all). Also, Luan wasn't "whoring around". Lynn and Luan referred to it as such because they were worked up, but Luan was only doing what many sailors of the period did – sleep around in ports because being trapped at sea with no release tends to eat at one's nerves. She wasn't the only one, and she was actually one of the tamer ones.**

 **If sexuality in a pirate fic is bugging you, then don't read this chapter because Luna is quite risqué. You've been warned.**

Two days had passed since the ship crashed, and in that time most of the island had been searched. By Lisa's calculations it was the largest island in the chain, but still incredibly small – smaller than Tobago, she claimed. Now the survivors were gathered into a small circle of barely a dozen crewwomen and officers, a few Royal Navy crewmen and Royal Marines forced on their knees at cutlass-point. Lori tried to glare at them, but with one eye bandaged badly from a nasty head wound, the action made her wince.

"Fine sailing," the Admiral scoffed, "You rammed your fat vessel square into ours with all the grace of a lumbering drunkard."

"It wasn't our fault…" one of the kneeling crewmen mumbled.

"Silence!" Lori roared, the force of it causing the unsuspecting Brits to flinch, "Now we have almost no stores, except for a few crates and barrels that floated ashore, and no ships! Out of the hundreds of bodies littering the shore, only a dozen of my crew survived, and to make matters worse, we have to take care of you sorry louts!"

Lori strode in before them, grabbing them by their hair and forcing them to look up at her, one by one. She stopped at the last one and furrowed her brow as she stared into their face. Immediately she realized what was so different and cracked into a grin that scared the sailor silly. The Admiral looked at the other survivors of the _Royal Hound_ , still grinning.

"You're either a plum stupid lot," she said, "or you've been covering for your crewmate." At the confused expressions they exchanged, Lori grunted. "Alright, just stupid, then."

Lori picked the last crewman up – one that Luna had been staring at intently for some time – and forced her to move within clear eyesight of everyone. A lanky, blonde sailor who – despite the tropical heat – wore their red frock buttoned tight. Now in clear view of both crews, those from the pirate fleet gasped in shock and Luna blushed a furious crimson.

"Who is this?" Lori demanded the highest ranking Brit present, a black-haired ensign who looked eternally depressed.

"I don't know," the ensign sighed, "I think his name's Samuel, or something. He was a choir boy, or the like – leads the crew in shanties whenever the Harvester isn't around."

"More like a choir girl," Lori said, unsheathing a knife and slicing the buttons from the frock. With another cut, she put a gash through Samuel's shirt and a series of tightly-wrapped bandages around her chest. Suddenly released, her chest popped outward, filling her torn shirt and forcing her to cover herself. "You've had a woman aboard your ship this whole time you've been hunting women!"

Several of the pirates laughed loudly at the startled looks on the British crew's face. Only the ensign seemed not to care, his expression shifting only slightly in surprise.

"S-Sam?" one of the crewmen gaped, "You're a bloody woman?!"

"I thought it was odd she could sing so high," the ensign nodded, slowly, "Hardly matters, now. We're never getting out of here."

"Quartermaster!" Lori snapped, startling Luna out of her thoughts, "Find this young lady some clothing. I imagine she wants out of those British rags."

"Actually, _Admiral_ ," Samuel hissed, her voice like that of a wrathful angel, "I rather like the colors of my country."

"A woman ain't ought to be in no redcoat, anyhow," one of the British marines muttered, "Ain't proper. Women in pants, blimey!"

"Remember that the women in pants can kill us as they please," the ensign warned.

"Bah!" the marine snapped, "I don't gotta take no snip from a German pup playing at being a Brit!" The ensign only sighed, loudly.

Luna led the reluctant crewwoman away from prying eyes. They had buried most of their dead, but had taken a great many things from the persons. After all, the dead don't need them. A collection of nicer clothes scavenged from the deceased lay in a shattered dinghy, and one of Leni's trunks had floated ashore from the wrecks. Almost every salvageable good that had washed ashore had been salvaged and gathered in their little cove. It wasn't much.

"Take this," Luna said, not looking at this so-called Samuel, "It seems your size."

"Ugh, it smells like the dead!" the sailor gagged, "Don't tell me you've been ripping the clothes off of your dead mates!"

"Yours too," the quartermaster chuckled.

"Disgusting pirates!"

Luna dared to eye the blonde again, feeling her pulse race. Even when she had believed the girl a boy, she had found him so… enchanting. Now that she knew Samuel was a woman, Luna felt conflicted. Like half the crew she had had men in ports, if only to make the loneliness of sea travel fade for a moment. In fact, Luna was a bit embarrassed to admit, she may have been more adventurous and daring, taking on multiple partners or doing other things to make her times in port more exciting. She had never considered taking a woman, though. Something about buying a woman prostitute struck her as unforgiveable.

Or maybe she was just afraid she'd enjoy the fairer sex.

"You going to stare at me all day, or something?" Samuel sniffed.

"Afraid to change when a fellow woman's watching?" Luna smirked.

Samuel muttered darkly as she removed her coat and shirt, much to Luna's private joy and shame, before covering herself in the 'clean' shirt and putting her coat back on. Samuel noticed Luna's blush and stare and slowly realized what they meant. She felt herself blush at the realization.

"What's your real name, anyway?" Luna asked, worried there'd be consequences for her staring.

"Samantha," the sailor mumbled, "everyone just calls me Sam, though."

"You like to sing?"

"I may dabble a bit, aye," Sam smiled, nervously.

"You and I will get along just fine, then," Luna smiled, comfortingly. It faded soon after. "Why join the British? Why pretend to be a man just to fight for a country that doesn't care about us?"

"Because it's my country," Sam said, defiantly, "and even if they won't let me serve, they can't stop me if I don't get caught."

"That's a sorry reason," Luna snorted, "There has to be a real one."

"I wanted adventure, but…" Sam sneered at Luna, suddenly, "I could never be a pirate."

"So you lied your way into military service?" Luna asked, "That wouldn't have ended well. No one figured out you were a woman? Don't you all change in front of each other?"

"It was a big ship," Sam shrugged, "There were ways to avoid being seen."

"Sneaky, deceptive, a woman who goes after what she wants," Luna counted on her fingers, "Why not be a pirate?"

"If you must know, my father died fighting pirates," Sam seethed, "and four of my five brothers."

"Ah…" Luna scratched her nose, looking away in embarrassment, "Yes, I suppose that would certainly shade your views…"

"Shade my…?" Sam scowled, "Bah, look who I'm talking to! Of course I pirate wouldn't see anything wrong with her criminal behavior!"

"Says the girl who broke the law just to serve in the military," Luna snorted.

"I broke the law to serve my country!" Sam snapped, "You broke the law to betray yours!"

"I broke the law to escape a hellish life of servitude to drunkards!" Luna shot back, getting in Sam's face, "I'm a free woman, now, capable of going anywhere I damn well please! I have an actual career, I could climb ranks, I can visit foreign shores, and I don't have to beg any man to do it!"

Sam's mouth twitched with rage as she thought of some way to retort, but nothing came to mind. Luna knew she had struck a nerve with her. Sam was strong-willed, independent, and obviously chafed under the fact she would never get to do what she wanted as a woman. With nothing left to fight back with, the sailor lashed out with the only thing she could think of to hurt the quartermaster.

"I don't have to take snip from a… a… a homosexual!" Sam prodded a finger into Luna's chest. The quartermaster paled at the comment, mouth tight in anxiety, but the British sailor plowed on. "I saw the way you were looking at me, enjoying my bare skin like some lecher! Aye, if you were a man, I'd think you a pervert, but you're a woman! You pirates! Indecent, filthy-minded drunkards with no respect for life or property, and now you blaspheme against God to boot!"

Luna seized Sam's wrist and shoved her back against a nearby tree, startling the Brit. She moved in perilously close, her grip firm yet gentle, like some sort of restraint made of silk. Sam gulped, unable to read Luna's expression. Had she pushed too far? Pirates were crazy – a bin of deviants, psychopaths, killers, and criminals who were rumored to waste their days boozing and sodomizing. They would kill without conscience, rape without the bat of an eyelash, and steal as easily as most men breathed.

Yet, despite the fear – or perhaps because of it – Sam felt another emotion stir in her chest that she could only equate to excitement. It was the same kind of exhilaration she had felt being aboard the ship, surrounded by men, fearing punishment. Fearing, perhaps, an unorthodox, naughty punishment… Sam felt disgust mix in with the fear and excitement; what perverse thoughts had begun to slip into her head after she had started her adventure.

"A-are you going to rape me?" Sam asked, quietly and far meeker than she had intended.

" _Rape_?!" Luna looked genuinely aghast, "Blimey, no! We're not _those_ kinds of pirates! If any of that kind slipped aboard, Admiral Lori would've had them hanged from the yardarms for sure."

"Oh," Sam said in relief and disappointment. Another wave of disgust.

"Now, if you consented, though…" Luna chuckled, trying to play cool while she had the upper hand. In truth, she felt like a nervous girl again. "I've never had a female partner. I've never even looked at another girl… until now."

"Oh for the love of…" a third voice interrupted and both women turned, faces crimson, to look at Admiral Lori, "Can't you keep it in your pants for _one_ stay ashore, Luna?"

"A-Admiral," Luna threw up a sketchy salute, "I, uh, was just trying to convince Sam here to join our crew."

"Fat chance!" Sam snapped.

"Shut it," Lori ordered, forestalling an argument, "I came looking for you two because we need to plan what to do next."

"What can we do?" Luna asked, following the Admiral back to camp.

"That's what we're trying to figure out," Lori shrugged.

The three women returned to the circle where the Brits had finally been allowed to stand and participate in the discussion, though the men were very often ignored if they made an asinine comment towards the women. The only one who seemed to treat the girls with anything approaching equality was the black-haired ensign, though he talked to everyone in a permanently depressed manner. Lisa was the only one making any rational suggestions, of course.

"I've already gone over our stores," Luna explained, "We may only have a little over a dozen in our party, but we only have enough to feed that many for about two weeks."

"We'll ration it out," Lori decided, glaring at the man who had tried to talk over her. The British sailors were beginning to realize that just because their captors were women, that didn't mean the men could take charge. "Hopefully by then, Bobby will have found us."

"Assuming he didn't sink, too," the ensign sighed.

"Highly unlikely," Lisa fixed her spectacles which had – miraculously – survived the crash, "I have seen wreckage from only two ships: the _Royal Hound_ and _Our Fair Lady_. If a third ship were destroyed, we would have certainly encountered crew – living or dead – and wreckage on our shores by now. These islands seem to be drawing in every scrap from the storm."

"Very unnatural," Sam murmured, trying to avoid the glares of her erstwhile crewmates.

 _Morale is perilously low,_ Lori thought to herself, grimacing, _What would Leni do if she were here?_

"Alright, you louts," Lori tried to put on a friendly face, ignoring how even her crew stepped back in worry, "we might as well introduce ourselves."

Aside from Sam, whose name was already known, the other members of the British crew gave their names with rank and surname, taking great pride despite their current circumstances. Only the ensign, the only officer in the group, was unenthusiastic.

"I'm called Silas," he explained, wearily, "I suppose I'm the highest ranking member of our crew."

"Not anymore," Lori shook her head, "You've been shanghaied into our crew, now. If we don't band together, we're dead."

"Fair enough," Silas nodded, slightly. The rest of the British crew mumbled reluctant agreement, but it was agreement.

Lori nodded in satisfaction. Maybe this could work out.

…

"Things could, like, certainly be worse," Leni forced a smile, trying to reassure her crewmates. Her hands were unbound, unlike them, so she could cradle and care for Lily who had been rescued at great effort by her.

Clyde, Lucy, the twins, and a handful of crewwomen, amongst them the death-defying Isabella, looked at her in defeat. Around them were Royal Marines, bayonet-tipped muskets caging the pirates in. What Brits had survived the shipwreck and washed ashore were being tended to by these neatly-dressed Brits. Leni couldn't understand why there were so many sailors and marines in undamaged uniforms, their weapons dry, their dinghies intact. The only logical answer was that they came from the other British vessels, but she couldn't find a single ship on the horizon.

"You bear a striking resemblance to the self-proclaimed Admiral," a rough voice sent shivers down her spine and she turned, along with all her fellow prisoners, to look at the most horrifying man she had ever encountered.

The man was tall, taller than Captain Bobby by at least a head, and thin as a rake. He had a farmer's complexion, a farmer's hands, all callous and wrinkles. He looked far older than he really was, his gaunt face tight and drawn. His eyes, though, were like those of a predator. Leni had seen the blackness in the eyes of sharks before, that seeming lack of intelligence that hid the dangerous intelligence of a monster. The Harvester's eyes were far worse.

"I always thought she'd look lovely with an infant in her arms," the villain murmured, eyes glassy in thought for a moment as he stared at Lily, "Seeing you, so similar in appearance, I see I was right. A shame she threw her life away."

"Where did you all come from?" Leni asked, ignoring the enemy's insults.

"Ah, that's a bit of a story," the Harvester smiled, wryly, "Most of our crews are drawn from New England, particularly from the New York area – I've always had a respect for Dutch sailors; von Tromp was something of an inspiration for me. We also have a few German immigrants, some Irish, the Welsh… Of course, we also have a goodly number of Brits. I myself come from the Manchester region-"

"I meant," Leni interrupted, grimacing at the Harvester's sinister smirk, "which, like, vessel did you come from?"

"Why, my flagship, of course," the Harvester scoffed. Several of the marines shifted, uncomfortably.

"How?" Leni pressed, "The _Royal Hound_ crashed into _Our Fair Lady_ , scuttling both! Yet, your dinghies and soldiers are, like, perfectly intact. It's like you weren't in the wreck at all!"

"Come dear, you can figure it out," the Harvester purred.

Leni's eyes widened and she looked around at the well-dressed marines. They were all looking down, faces flushed in shame. Some were trying not to cry. Leni looked over to the wounded sailors and marines who had clearly barely survived the crash, glaring with intense hatred at their admiral. The pirate stood straighter and bared her teeth at the Harvester.

"You sacrificed your ship and crew just to sink us?!" she demanded.

"And they say you're the dumb one," the Harvester chuckled, "Yes, I gave the command for the _Royal Hound_ to pursue you filth into the Devil's Triangle. I also gave the order for my best marines to abandon ship in dinghies, knowing that despite my valiant crew's efforts, the ship was doomed."

"How could you have known that?" Clyde asked, suddenly, "Are you saying you knew the ships would crash and wash ashore before it happened?"

The Harvester eyed the newly-raised quartermaster, appraisingly, before nodding.

"I was not aware the _pious_ Harvester would practice the tarot," Lucy noted.

"Of course not. I'm not some French street whore," the Harvester said, dismissively, making Lucy actually flush in rage, "No, I was gifted a vision from God, Himself. He, in His infinite wisdom, has shown me the path to eradicating you heathen criminals. Sadly, most of the crew of my flagship had to pay the ultimate price in bringing you to justice, but now you are trapped on these islands and we outnumber you. We also have to only working weapons and the only working boats."

"You could still lose," Leni muttered, "We have friends."

"Are you referring to those Spaniard half-breeds?" the Harvester chuckled, "If they weren't destroyed in the storm, I still have a fleet of five ships coming for us. Even a ship-of-the-line can't compete with that. If he's smart, he would have fled."

"Clearly you've never been in love," Isabella laughed, despite her grievous injuries, "That Captain Bobby won't leave until he's rescued Admiral Lori, even if it costs him his ship, his crew, and his life."

"It's their funeral, then," the Harvester shrugged, "What a glorious day awaits us, when not one, but three crews of pirates have been brought to heel. Including that whore, Lori."

"You take that back!" Clyde shot up, in a rage. The Harvester eyed him again, then slowly grinned.

"I see she's still stringing men along, even now," he chuckled darkly, "Tell me, what do you know about the circumstances leading up to her fall from grace?"

"The wedding?" Leni asked.

"Yes, the wedding," the Harvester murmured, eyes glassy with memory.

"Her fiancée slept with her then left her at the altar," Leni explained, bitterly, "It ruined her, financially. She, like, had few choices – especially after killing him."

"Is that what she told you?" the Harvester's eyebrows shot up in surprise, "Well, she did barge into a party and kill him in a duel, that much I know happened, before convincing a band of street urchins and displeased wives to join her, but she lied about that first part."

"Now you call our Admiral a liar _and_ a whore?" Lucy demanded.

"Her late fiancée didn't sleep with her before her wedding," the Harvester frowned, something oddly close to human pain written on his face, "I did."

The pirates only stared at him, some in shock, but most in disbelief.

"You expect us to believe that?" Leni asked, "You look old enough to be her father!"

"Believe what you will," the Harvester shrugged, "Bill was a good friend of mine, but he was a callous fool who didn't appreciate Lori. I loved her, you know, insomuch as I ever _felt_ love. I was surprised she reciprocated the feeling, and one thing led to another… I felt guilty, as she did, so I confessed to Bill that I had betrayed his confidence. He refused to marry Lori, and I was too ashamed to propose…"

The Harvester shook his head to clear himself of clouding emotions, the predatory glint returning to his features. He had almost said he felt as if this whole unfortunate string of events was his fault for engaging in the affair, almost confessed that he felt guilty for the murder of Bill and Lori's career in piracy. The Harvester, of course, could never admit that such wanton bloodshed had been his doing – all for loving a girl and feeling guilty for betraying a friend! He scowled at Leni, who reminded him so much of her…

"It hardly matters why it happened," he muttered, "but she murdered a man in cold blood – my best friend. She started a career as a pirate, a career of theft and murder! Not only that, but she lied to all of you!"

The pirates were surprised by the revelations, but they didn't change their loyalty – only added a tinge of pity to their view of the Admiral. Lori had tried so hard to bury her shame, which showed she had a weakness in her seemingly unbreakable armor. Instead of making her seem weak, it made her appear… human. Although Leni didn't want to admit it, she also pitied the Harvester, too. The way she saw it, both admirals had been trapped in a society that kept them apart, and both had dealt with it differently. Lori had broken free, using violence to pay for her liberation, while the Harvester had stayed in chains, drowning his humanity in hate and a desire for vengeance. Leni wondered if both were trying to make amends, in their strange ways, for the discretion that ended in this Bill's death.

"I will not rest until she hangs from the yardarms!" the Harvester roared, losing his composure, "I would like nothing better than to kill the whole lot of you, but I shan't! You must be hanged together! I will decorate my vessels as if they were Christmas trees! Your bodies will be my ornaments, your intestines strung out like garland! I am the Harvester, and you will fall like wheat before my scythe!"

The Harvester stopped himself, huffing in exertion as he tried to regain poise. Even his own crew had paled before his wrath. Quietly, the admiral fixed his wig and tricorn, nodded to an officer named Charles, and ordered them all to carry on. Turning smartly on his heel, the man left quickly, leaving everyone stunned and silent.

Leni shuddered. The Harvester was a cruel, unstable man, yet… she couldn't help but feel he had been human.

Once.

…

They'd finally found them. A series of islands that weren't on any map, it was the only possible location for survivors to go to. He directed the quartermaster to head that way. Most of the crew was on the verge of mutiny, having been forced into a suicide mission all because their captain was lovesick for some pirate queen. They followed him, still, because they had no other option at this point. They had no way to navigate out of the Devil's Triangle, and the islands offered the chance to restock on food, if nothing else. Bobby Santiago would see Lori again, even if it killed them all.

Judging by the five ships barreling towards the islands a few knots away, well, they might die. Bobby might not have been a captain long, but he knew when his impressive ship was outmatched. That small fleet had at least one ship-of-the-line to match his, and two frigates and two schooners to outflank him. Fortunately, they were more interested in reaching the islands than claiming another kill.

Bobby looked over his shoulder at the few trusted members of his crew that remained. His sister, of course, would never betray him and had grown accustomed to her promotion to galley officer. Lynn's protégé, Francisco, made a fine gunnery officer, and he seemed to respect Bobby and the Admiral. There were a few others who still respected him, but most had become cynical and violent. If they didn't finish this endeavor soon, there would be a mutiny.

"Head to the nearest island and prepare the dinghies," Bobby ordered his crew in Spanish, "We'll search these islands one at a time for survivors and resources." He put on friendly, charismatic smile before adding, "Who knows, my friends? Perhaps we'll find long-forgotten riches buried here!"

That got the crew talking more positively. These were lost islands, after all, where many voyaging ships had been lost. It wasn't unlikely that a shipwrecked merchant may have hidden their gold… Suddenly the crews were working much faster. Bobby felt his grin fade. It was a quick fix, but now if they couldn't make any profit here, he would almost certainly have a mutiny on his hands…

 **Oh look, the Harvester appeared. I'm going to preempt the "lazy writing" reviews about me throwing in Lori's affair with him with a simple question: how do you know he wasn't lying?**

 **Characters introduced are all pretty much for the episode "L is for Love" – Silas, Sam, and Chaz (Charles). Don't freak out about Luna having fun in port or trying to seduce Sam, or Sam's apparent fetish, please. If you don't like innuendos and suggestive content, you can make your own sterile pirate fic. The story is still going, so expect a few more plot twists.**

 **These next few chapters will likely alternate between the survivors, some being solely-focused on one group, others being a mashup of different groups. We're building to the climax, though.**


	17. Chapter 17

**Lincoln's "scientific" reasoning isn't meant to be taken as modern medicine, but rather an 18** **th** **century man trying to comprehend something he has no schooling in. Also, the Harvester is in his mid-thirties – he just looks older than he is. In this story, of course.**

The rest of the island was abandoned, other than some small game and waterlogged corpses. A few days of hard labor between Benny and Lincoln – with Luan's expert instructions – saw them erect a decent camp out of the wreckage that had washed ashore. They had something of a small cabin erected out of salvaged hull and deck, covered in sail, as well as a crutch for Luan so she could move about with minimal assistance. After noticing Lynn's desolate mood, Lincoln took it upon himself to improvise something to help her recover.

"What is this?" the gunnery officer asked, looking at the two rails running parallel about three feet off the ground.

"When my pa used to baptize babies, I always noticed that their legs would start kicking before they even touched the water – as if part of them wanted to swim even though they didn't know how," Lincoln explained, "I never understood it, since I don't know how to swim. I think there's something inside us, some deeper power, that urges us to try even when our minds tell us we can't."

"That didn't answer my question," Lynn frowned as Lincoln placed her hands on the rails and helped her keep herself upright with her legs. Some movement had worked its way back into her feet, but it was sluggish and difficult. "Why am I standing here?"

"I figured, since babies try to swim without even understanding it," the first mate smirked, "it might work with you. Every day, you're going to spend an hour on these rails, trying to walk."

"Lincoln, I can't-"

"Yes, you _can_ ," Lincoln stared intently into her eyes, startling her. He gave a comforting smirk. "I believe in you."

The gunnery officer looked away, blushing slightly. Then she nodded in determination, setting her face and gritting her teeth. It was an hour of intense pain and frustration, but Lynn had managed to shuffle her feet around, even if she hadn't properly taken a step. Lincoln stayed beside her the whole time, softly encouraging her, keeping her on her feet with gentle grips, and smiling so _caringly_ at her. Luan watched the whole thing with mixed feelings, Benny peeling some potatoes they had found beside her.

"I thought you two were still together?" Benny asked in his soft Irish brogue.

"We are, so don't hold your breath, you little charmer," the bosun snorted, ruffling his curly hair, "He's just helping a friend."

"It is pretty admirable," the marine nodded as he tossed another peeled potato into a bucket. Only two more to go and they'd have a nice side for their daily dinner of salted fish. "Do you think he can do it? Help her walk again?"

"He is pretty pious," Luan shrugged, "I wouldn't be surprised if his preacher father taught him how to heal the lame."

After a moment, Benny said, "I'm glad you two are staying the course."

"We might have set sail before we checked our stores," Luan confessed, "but we love each other, and it'll take more than me accidentally cuddling with you, or him giving Lynn piggyback rides to ruin that."

There was more to that, of course. She had never expected herself to fall in love with a second man, not after marrying Lincoln, but it was probably not surprising considering Lincoln, himself, had been in love with four girls. Or three. Two? Luan grimaced as she mulled that over; what exactly _was_ the relationship between the young Santiago girl and Lincoln?

"What I mean is, I'm disappointed – that you and I can never be anything more than friends," Benny confessed, his tone suggesting this was a difficult topic he wanted off his chest, "I… I feel very strongly about you, Luan. I'm glad you two are sticking it out, though, because it's something you never really see much. Oh, everyone always talks about these traditional families, like it's a common occurrence and all, but my village was always filled with cheaters and cowards who left their families. You two give me hope, oddly, even if you are pirates."

"I wouldn't talk so bad about pirates," Luan turned her head away to avoid revealing the tears in her eyes, "I mean, you're helping save three of us. Besides, you're outnumbered by us."

"Fair point," Benny grinned, feeling much better now that he had cleared the air, "You really are a swell friend, Luan. You remind me of the boys back home – no offense to your femininity, of course."

"You're a helluva friend, too, Benny," Luan snorted, "Remind me a' ta lasses – no offense t'yer masculinity, a' course." Luan's use of an overly-exaggerated Irish accent drove Benny into a fit of laughter.

Lincoln eyed them out of the corner of his eye, suppressing a flare of jealous rage. They had discussed this on the first night, and though the last week had been a bit stilted, they were coming to terms with the fact both of them were friends with people who loved them. It was part of the marriage, they had agreed, to trust one another not to do anything. Lincoln smiled as he caught Luan's eyes, and she smiled back. The love he felt banished all worry of betrayal, all anger. He _did_ trust her, and he had grown to like Benny. Luan was right – he actually _was_ quite funny. Additionally, after having spent time away from his coarse Royal friends, he had revealed how shy and sensitive he was, which startled Lincoln to no end after his brash and macho attitude.

If Lincoln were being completely honest, he actually liked the idea of being friends with the silly marine.

"Alright Lynn, that's enough for today," he said, calmly.

"B-but, I can keep going!" she protested as he pried her hands off the rails.

"I know you can, but I'm no doctor, Lynn," the first mate chuckled, "I don't know how much your body can take. This therapy isn't going to be much use if it ends up making things worse, is it? When you show more improvement, we can go for longer."

"Do you think I'll show any improvement?" Lynn asked, "I just shuffled my feet like an idiot."

"True," Lincoln smirked, "but you could only move a toe on the first day. I have faith you'll beat this."

"Thanks," the gunnery officer smiled, "I really wish Francisco were here."

"Oh?" Lincoln's smirk widened, "I'm not enough?"

"You're perfect, and that's the problem," Lynn snorted as he helped her sit down, "I wish he were here, in your place, so I'd feel… like I feel… for _him_. It'd make things so much easier."

"True," Lincoln sighed, "but easy isn't for us pirates, is it?"

Lynn eyed the first mate curiously before smiling.

"How much you've changed," she muttered, "To think, only about a year ago, you were nothing but a bright-eyed boy from a landlocked French colony, begging to serve aboard a crew of women. Now you're an accomplished first mate, giving comfort to your former superiors…"

"I had good mentors," Lincoln stroked her cheek and she leaned into it. They stopped, looking shocked, and parted. "Anyway, let's join the others."

Lincoln cursed himself. It was bad enough he'd been lusting for Lynn while married to Luan. It was worse, still, that he'd still be attracted after griping to Luan about her attraction to Benny! What made him _truly_ disgusted with himself, however, was the fact he seemed to be taking advantage of Lynn's disability. Was he truly helping her, or was he helping himself? God how he missed the confidence his old pence coin gave him, but he had given it to Luan as a pledge of his loyalty. Besides, now that he was free of its influence, he felt it had been… negative. It had helped him cope, yes, but it made him feel as if all his selfish impulses and desires were just because of a simple belief that "God willed it".

A dangerous belief to follow, he knew, from the histories of the religious wars in the Holy Lands and in Europe…

"Y'know, I could help give her rides so you're not always doing it," Benny offered.

"No offense, mate," Lynn smirked, coyly, "but there are only two men I'd let touch me without losing their teeth, and you aren't one of them."

"Besides," Lincoln smirked, "I actually enjoy carrying her around. The extra weight builds a lot of muscle."

"Exactly!" Lynn threw her hands up, "Exercise is the best- _Hey!_ "

Luan laughed as Lynn belted furious punches into Lincoln's back, the first mate cackling the whole time. The two of them sprawled onto the sandy beach, and Luan soon joined them, easing off of her crutch. Benny, finished with the potatoes, joined them. They stared up at the clear tropical skies, enjoying the occasional cloud or the exotic birds.

"I know this is weird, but…" Lincoln sighed, "I could get used to this."

"I know what you mean," Benny grinned, "No tyrants, no strict laws, no pompous society, no slavish traditions… just nice weather, only having to do work that needs doing… Plus, we're here with good friends and pretty girls."

"Having men doing housekeeping and cooking for us is pretty nice, too," Luan smirked.

"Bah, you're all acting the dandy," Lynn waved an arm, dismissively, "I miss the work. I miss the thrill! I miss walking…" Lynn trailed off, then shook her head. "Sorry about that; I hate self-pity, and here I am trying it out. I hate hypocrites, too!"

They all had a laugh at that, though there was still an underlying sadness to it. Lynn gave a quick sniff, wiped her nose, and smiled confidently to her friends.

"Linc's right, though," she said, "I _can_ beat this."

"I wonder when Bobby will find us?" Lincoln asked, not letting any doubt slip into his voice. As nice as it might be to stay on the island, it was also a good way to slip into despair, and as an officer he could not allow his shipmates – now including Benny – fall prey to that emotion.

"Well you forget," Benny said, "my lot could find us. We did have quite a few ships…"

"I prefer to hope for Bobby," Lincoln snorted, "No offense, but I think _all_ our chances are better with him, than with the Harvester. I don't think he'd appreciate you saving my wife."

"Hard as it is to believe, I think he's got a soft spot for women," Benny said, "Then again, it's hard to tell with him. He has… mood swings."

"I heard he's nuts!" Lynn gave a raucous bark of laughter.

"You've 'heard'?" Lincoln sat up, raising an eyebrow, "Lynn, I thought you were there when the Admiral started the whole thing. Didn't you see the Harvester back then?"

"Well, sure, but he didn't seem like the man he is now," the gunnery officer shrugged, "Very quiet, composed, bright-eyed even though he looked old. He reminded me of… of an uncle, almost."

"That doesn't sound like the man who's been trying to kill us for the past few years," Luan noted with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, like Benny said, the guy has mood swings," Lynn shrugged, "He looked a lot more like the guy we know after Lori killed her ex-fiancé."

"Pity, that," Benny noted.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Luan asked, turning to face the Royal Marine.

"Huh?" it was his turn to raise an eyebrow, "Well, if she hadn't murdered his best friend after the affair and turned to piracy, then he wouldn't have gone off the deep end. It's pretty tragic, actually."

"Affair?!" the three pirates sat up, startling Benny.

"Aye," he nodded, sitting up as well, "The Admiral doesn't like to talk about it, but scuttlebutt on the ship says he cheated on Ol' Bill with Lori, damaging their friendship. He loved her, I reckon, but was too afraid of losing his commission – and his friend – to pursue her. Odds are, what with Bill leaving her high and dry and the Harvester not committing afterward, this Lori lass snapped."

"You better quit spitting lies, or I'll cut that serpent tongue out of you!" Lynn snapped.

"Easy, lass," Benny held his hands up defensively, but looked scared. Even crippled, Lynn could best the lanky marine in a fight. "I'm just telling you what every man Jack in our crew knew. Your Admiral never told you the story?"

"She told us that this Bill guy slept with her before the wedding, then left her at the altar," Luan explained, shortly.

"Rubbish," Benny snorted, "It's no secret in the Royal Navy that the Harvester had his eye on Lori, and the two had something – so I've been told by the old salts. When Bill found out, he blamed Lori, and the Admiral was too ashamed to intervene; he didn't want to lose his old friend, so I'm told. That left your Admiral in a tough spot, sadly. I always felt as if this fight weren't proper, truth be told… I feel both of our admirals are justified, in a way…"

"What a load of crock!" Lynn threw her arms up, "Lori told us the truth on day one!"

"And has she mentioned the story since?" Benny asked, "Or has she kept her lips sealed?"

"It's… a very painful subject," Lynn looked uncertain.

"I don't want to be rude or call her a liar, but have you ever considered she was too ashamed to tell the truth the first time around," Benny suggested, "and that she's kept it hidden out of fear of losing all your respect?"

The three pirates stayed silent. To suggest that the Admiral was so vulnerable, so human, was an insult! And yet, it did make her suddenly relatable, and it explained so much about her personality. Lincoln was suddenly able to forgive all of her acerbic tendencies. Just as quickly, all the curious glints in her eyes of half-remembered pain, of buried suffering, made sense. Lori was hurting as surely as Luan was, for both had been through traumas.

"I'd still follow her," the boatswain said after a while, "She killed my father and I _still_ followed her. If anything, this story – if it's true – just shows me that she's suffered, too."

"She's the finest leader I've ever seen," Lincoln nodded, agreeing with his wife, "I could never follow another."

"I've been with her since the beginning," Lynn smirked, "She rescued me from a hellish future, and I'll always be grateful for that."

"That's very inspiring," Benny smiled, warmly, but there was a sorrow in his eyes, "I know exactly how you feel, though."

Before the others could ask him what he meant, Lynn gasped and pointed to the horizon. The massive vessel of _Fair Maiden_ was materializing through the heat haze and sea mist, the black flag and immense bulk clearly distinguishing it from any British vessel that might be nearby. The pirates cheered and hugged each other, laughing at their salvation. Benny grinned with them, but his jaw was hard, his eyes searching towards the other islands in the chain.

A storm of emotions waged in his eyes, but in their joy none of his new friends noticed.

…

"Well, this is just fantastic," Luna muttered, darkly to her hunting companion.

"Don't you even start, Yankee," Sam replied in equally dark tones.

A simple job to check the traps for game had turned into a humiliating fiasco. Sam and Luna had gotten into an argument over where one of the traps was located and had ended up setting it off. Now they were thirty feet off the ground, trapped in a sturdy rope net sized to ensnare small pigs. Worse still, they had _both_ lost their knives. Luna had lost hers when the trap went off, while Sam had dropped hers attempting to cut through the rope.

"Butterfingers," Luna muttered.

"If I could move my arms…" Sam growled, leaving the threat unspoken.

The two stayed in silence for a little bit, letting their anger cool down. They got into a lot of arguments, almost always because Sam tried to start fights. In truth, both of them really enjoyed the other's company – a _lot_. There was a reason they kept pairing up for chores despite Sam's apparent disdain for the pirate. Whenever they chose each other, Luna always gave a cocky grin and a very unsubtle, flirtatious compliment – one that made pirate and Royal alike raise their eyebrows in surprise. Meanwhile, Sam would give a scathing insult that made even the hardy sailors' ears burn, but only made Luna's grin grow wider and her face flush. Lori only shook her head and sighed at the two.

"How long before they send someone after us?" Sam asked, the anger having left her tone. She wasn't worried; being trapped in a net for a while seemed pretty inconsequential after surviving a shipwreck. Especially surviving with the knowledge she and her shipmates had regarding _why_ they crashed.

"Oh, probably an hour at most," Luna sighed, "It should only have taken us twenty minutes to check the traps. Even if they were all filled and we were delayed, they'd send people to help us."

"True enough," Sam grunted.

Their bodies began to ache, bent at odd angles and crushed together like they were. Sam was about to open up with another snippy comment before a gunshot rang out in the direction of their camp. Luna shifted to try and look towards the camp, but the jungle was particularly dense in that area. A few more gunshots rang out, but once their echoes died there was only silence. Neither of them spoke, but Luna's mind raced.

No one who washed ashore had any powder. All of it had been ruined by seawater. Additionally, even if there _was_ powder, the last week had brought the pirates and Royal Navy crewmen closer together. Even the most conservative of them had found a kindred spirit in at least one pirate, and more than a few were enamored with one wild and fierce lady or another.

So, if it wasn't them… who fired the shots?

They waited, bodies aching both from unspent energy and tense anxiety. Sweat streamed down their face, their combined body heat, Sam's wool coat, the tropical heat, and the situation all mixing into an unpleasant burning. Finally, Luna got her answer in the form of a small party of Royal Marines scouring the jungle, their bright redcoats picking them out from the greenery. Their uniforms were completely unscathed, their weapons in prime condition. Sam stifled a gasp with her hands while Luna muttered a silent prayer none of them would think of a reason to look up into the trees.

The soldiers passed without looking up, but Luna and Sam held their breaths until long after the redcoats were gone. They exhaled in relief. Luna wasn't surprised Sam didn't want to be discovered; no one had known she was a woman before, so if she were to try explaining she was Samuel now, she'd likely be strung up with the rest of them.

Their relief was cut short by the sound of rope stressing. They looked up, eyes wide in panic as they saw the rope connecting their trap unbind, the tension caused by more weight than it was designed to hold wearing it out. Luna managed to mutter a curse before the rope snapped and both captives had to use all their willpower to avoid screaming out in fear. A thirty-foot drop might not have been too terribly far, especially for two youths who had worked upon the large masts of sailing vessels, but a fall from the height and the potential for serious injury were enough to drive most people to fear.

Fortunately, there was lush undergrowth in the jungle, and the loam was very absorbent. The two smashed and rolled off of a cluster of semi-rigid ferns that pulped rather than splintered, then landed in the mossy loam in the shadow of the tree. Groaning, they quickly fiddled for their knives, hoping they had landed within arm's reach of them. Luna found one and used it to cut out of their prison. Sam found the other and they moved quickly and stealthily to where their camp was.

Peering through the bushes the two stifled gasps at the scene. Nearly two dozen Redcoats were standing about their camp. Lisa and a few other pirates were bound, but many more had been shot dead and were being piled up to the side by cold-eyed soldiers. Lori was being kept separate, under close supervision by two of the older Marines, each one carrying themselves with the air of a veteran. The Royal crewmen and Marines that had been ashore with them stood freely, though wore mixed expressions.

"About bloody time," the Marine who turned on Sam first shouted with his usual choler, "It's been a nightmare surrounded by these savages!"

Luna narrowed her eyes. That guy had been annoying at the best of times; now he was just infuriating.

"If you don't approve of our timetable," one of the new officers said in clipped tones, "you can discuss it with the Admiral, shortly."

"Th-the Admiral?" the Marine paled. Luna felt cold at the realization the Harvester would be there shortly.

"Ensign!" the officer ignored the Marine and turned towards Silas, who looked more miserable than usual, "Are these all the pirates?"

Luna felt her heart seize up. They were so close to camp and search parties were already about. Only now did she realize they were pinned between the two groups, with only some shrubbery between them and an almost-certain death.

Silas looked out at the ocean and shrugged, the motion surprising the last free pirate.

"Come on, Silas," the new officer said quietly, his educated tones dropped in favor of more casual conversation, "we're supposed to be setting an example for the men. Quit sulking!"

Silas sighed slowly.

"I think that's all of them, Charles," he lied, still looking at the ocean. Astoundingly none of the other Royal crewmen who had been ashore with the pirates called Silas out – not even the grouchy Marine.

"Good!" Charles returned to his clipped tones, "Once the search parties have returned, we'll let the Admiral know. We're making history today, my friends."

Luna made to signal to Sam that they were leaving when she felt a knife blade rest against her throat and her arms grappled by a free hand. Biting her tongue to avoid screaming curses, Luna looked over her shoulder and quit struggling as she realized Sam was her assailant. The blonde looked down at her with remorse, but it was overwhelmed by a coldhearted determination. Too stunned and heartbroken to resist, Luna could only gape as she was forced to march back into the camp at knifepoint. Her fellow pirates looked up in horror while most of the Royals leveled weapons, unsure what was happening. The Royals who had washed ashore eyed Sam with disgust, but kept their peace.

"Uh…" Charles blinked, looking over his shoulder at Silas, "What kind of trick is this?"

"No trick, sir!" Sam said in her 'Samuel' voice, startling the Royals who knew her, "It's me… Samuel."

"But… but you're a woman," Charles found his eyes studying her body in detail before he shook his head. He rounded on his fellow ensign. "Did you know about this?"

"That Sam was a woman?" Silas asked in a monotone, "I thought everyone knew."

"No!" Charles exclaimed, "Everyone most certainly did _not_ know!"

"Permission to rejoin the crew?" Sam asked, not liking the scorn in her former comrades' eyes, "I-I did what was ordered of us…"

"Ordered?" Luna muttered to herself, grimacing as the knife pulled closer to her flesh.

"Quiet, pirate scum," Sam hissed.

The pirate quartermaster felt her heart breaking at the betrayal. Had it all been an act? Did Sam _really_ hate her and the whole time Luna had been stupid enough to believe she was just playing hard-to-get? She hung her head in defeat.

"Well…" Charles kept looking at Silas for confirmation, but the other ensign kept staring silently at the ocean, "I suppose we could use all the help we can get. Men, bound up the pirate and see that Samue… Sam is properly equipped like the rest of our crew."

The others hesitated, so Charles rolled his eyes and sighed.

"If the Admiral has a problem with it, I'll take the blame," he promised. The Royals set about the task.

Luna kept looking at the ground as she was dragged over towards Lisa and the others, forced to kneel and bound. Tossed aside like a bag of meat, she fell over. Only then did she look up, teary-eyed at Sam. Sam in the redcoat she had never forsaken. Sam with all her hateful talk against pirates and outlaws. Sam with her angelic voice. Luna grimaced in the dirt, feeling worthless as she watched the blonde get rearmed by her true crew.

"It was obvious in retrospect," Lisa noted, "I'm not surprised the Harvester had this planned. Sacrifice his ship, keep his best soldiers in reserve, order the survivors to infiltrate any pirate groups that survived… It is rather obvious, given his choice in tactics."

Luna glared up at the Italian, tears and dirt staining her cheeks.

"Are you going to start telling me 'I told you so' next?" she demanded.

Lisa only shook her head.

"No," she confessed, "In truth, I never saw this coming."

 **There we go. I've been working on this one for a while but have never really been pleased with it. I'm a little off my game for this fic, so that's why it's been on hiatus (I'm also on a roll for a different fic at the moment). That said, here's another chapter to keep the readers happy for a little bit.**


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